Grace Period
by Arcole
Summary: COMPLETE - From his first moment on the island, James "Sawyer" Ford knew he had to make the tough calls to survive. However, he didn't consider just how tough those calls were going to have to be or what the island was going to ask of him. In canon. T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

Grace Period

**Author's Note: Herewith follow a series of oneshots from Sawyer's perspective, mostly to fill in gaps or novelize scenes I think are interesting from his point of view. Mostly because I love Sawyer. I'm also using these to grease the creative wheels for the sequel to my recently published novel **_**The Blacksmith's Daughter**_** (shameless plug) which is available at www dot musapublishing dot com and at Amazon and Smashwords and lots of other places. I write better when I'm writing, so now I'm writing! Anyway, thanks for reading and I hope you will review. I love reviews! **

Chapter One: Crashtest

(In which we discover just how Sawyer managed to get hold of Mars' badge and gun.)

_Pilot_

A few hours into the flight, his eyes began to drift closed in complete exhaustion.

But the moment the grey and blue interior of the plane went to black, he could see the man slumped against the side of the green dumpster, his blood beginning to seep through his shirt. He could feel the sting in his palm from the kick of the pistol. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air and his ears rang from the report of the bullet.

And just as fast as they had closed, his eyes snapped open again.

_Son of a bitch_, he thought to himself and held up his hand for another cup of coffee.

He'd stopped drinking a couple of hours ago. The alcohol only made him sleepier and did nothing to quell the flashback. He'd learned that the hard way in a Sydney bar. Not even starting a fight-apparently with a member of the Australian top brass-had been enough to distract him.

He tried to read again, something, anything to stop the replay of watching a man die-an innocent man. Anything to stop the repeating soundtrack of gunfire and the man's last words, "Tell Hibbs I would have paid. It'll come back around."

His stomach churned as he sipped his bad airline coffee. He hated Hibbs in that moment almost more than he hated the man he'd been gunning for. In all his years of grifting, he'd always kept his hands clean. He wasn't anybody's heavy.

But Hibbs had taken him. He'd thrown him a hook he hadn't been able to resist. Pulling that trigger was supposed to make him feel better, but instead it only made him feel sick.

The conman had been taken in a con.

Instead of justice, he'd dealt out murder.

He took another sip of coffee and his stomach rolled again, but this time it was with the sudden turbulence that rocked the plane.

Passengers began to shout around him as the turbulence grew worse, causing overhead bins to pop open and luggage to fall around him. Oxygen masks spilled from their compartments, but he didn't bother to put his on. Around him, his seatmates followed the captain's instructions to take crash positions, but he didn't bother doing that either.

He sat up, eyes open, unfazed and unsurprised.

It had come back around.

When the tail section of the plane broke off, the sudden rush of wind blew his hair into his eyes. When the nose broke off, he could see the bright blue of the sky only feet in front of him.

"Hell, yeah!" he called bitterly into the chaos and prepared to ride that pony into oblivion.

He could taste blood. That was the first thing he realized.

The second was that he was hanging very uncomfortably from a narrow airline seatbelt. He took a moment to orient himself. The plane wasn't in the air. It was on the ground and somehow he was still belted into place even though all the angles were wrong and he could smell smoke and hear the deafening whine of the engines.

He had to get out of there. Without thinking, he jerked at the latch of the belt and dropped with a heavy thud onto the bank of overhead compartments, which were now underfoot. The compartment broke beneath him with a crack and a sharp corner gouged into his temple, barely missing his eye.

He lay there a long second, the edge of the plastic hovering blurry and menacing in his vision, then he pulled away carefully. There was a noise above him and he looked up. Passengers dangled there like sides of beef in a slaughterhouse. Death literally hung over him.

But directly above, a man hung from his seatbelt, groaning.

"Hey, it's okay," he called out. "I'll get you down."

He stood on the compartment and reached overhead as high as he could, his fingers barely reaching the man's buckle. Then with a snap it came free and he did his best to catch the guy as he plummeted.

Somehow, the man managed to land almost gently on top of him, the fall cushioned by a pile of luggage that had also tumbled free of the overhead storage.

"You okay there, fella?" he asked as he tried to check the man over for injuries. He passed his fingers across the man's chest and felt a hard metal object protruding from him.

"This ain't good," he sighed.

Outside, the whine from the engines grew louder and he looked around anxiously. They had to get out. As carefully as he could, he began to pull the man free of the wreckage. They got maybe fifteen feet when suddenly the guy started to cry out in pain.

"Oh, my God," the guy moaned. "Stop! Stop! Put me down!"

He eased the man down onto the sand. "We're still too close to the engines," he tried to explain. "We gotta get you farther away."

But the man slapped at him, "Just leave me alone, you bastard!"

He knew the guy was hurting and out of his mind and moved to unbutton the man's jacket to see just how bad the wound was. When he did, a law enforcement badge came free off the man's belt into his hand. Absently he stuck it into his hip pocket. "I'm just going to take a look and see how bad it is," he tried to explain.

"No! Don't touch me! I'll kill you, you bastard, if you touch me again," the man swore, his eyes wide with fear and anger. His face was white with pain and shock. "I swear to God I'll kill anybody who touches me!" The man tried to sit up, his hand reaching. Then he sank back onto the sand, groaning pitifully.

He checked to see what the man was reaching for and found the holster he was wearing.

"Son of a bitch," he swore absently beneath his breath. Then he took the badge out of his pocket and read it. U. S. Marshal. "Damn." He stuck it back into his jeans and pulled the pistol free as well, sticking into his waistband for safe keeping.

The man continued to groan on the sand. He had to get help. Maybe two people could carry him without hurting him any worse than he already was.

Behind him, other sounds began to coalesce. He could hear a woman screaming and people calling out names, looking for their loved ones. A wheelchair lay on its side not too far away from him.

He scanned the area, looking for someone to help him, when he spotted a young blonde woman bent double near the water. She cried out in pain, but just as he rose to go help her, a dark haired man in a suit reached her side. He looked around again and spotted another guy standing at the edge of the trees. He'd do.

As he ran that way, a sudden explosion rocked the ground, throwing him down hard enough to knock the wind out of him. When he looked up, smoke filled the air and the guy at the treeline was gone.

He searched again for somebody, spotting a young man wandering aimlessly through the wreckage past the blonde chick that was still screaming her fool head off.

Across the beach the dark haired guy in the suit handed the blonde girl, who was pregnant he realized, off to a big dude with a scary mop of curly hair. Maybe that guy can help, he thought to himself.

But the dark haired guy had already run to help another guy on the beach who was doing CPR on a woman in a pink shirt.

"Great," he thought to himself. He ran into the smoke, trying to find somebody who could help him get that marshal to safety. "Brownie points with the law boys," he muttered under his breath.

Then as he searched he wondered if that marshal was possibly looking for someone. He wondered if that marshal was possibly looking for a fugitive. Maybe he'd been tipped off to keep an eye out for someone on the run for murder.

He paused just a moment to think. _It'll come back around._ Duckett whispered and it was so clear. So real.

He looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

"Damn," he cursed, then ran into the smoke anyway, still hunting somebody who could help him.

There was a terrible sound beside him, a screeching sound of metal twisting against itself, as the huge wing on the other side of the plane begin to tear free of the fuselage, bending slowly, almost gracefully down onto the people running for cover.

A woman in a green dress ran past him, heading straight for the plane. He grabbed her arm, but she shook him free. "Damn it, stop!" he yelled at her, grabbing her wrist again.

"Let me go!" she screamed. "I have to find my fiancé! Steve!" Then she pulled free of him with a jerk and got two steps away when all hell broke loose.

As the wing hit the engine beneath it, there was an instant of silence, followed by a boom that he could feel in the air as well as hear. He was knocked off his feet again, this time into unconsciousness.

He woke to the gritty feeling of sand in his mouth and the burning of the cut on his head. His chest hurt from breathing in the acrid smoke of the explosion. Beside him lay the body of the young woman in the green dress. He could tell she was dead by the vacant look in her eyes. There was something familiar about her long blonde hair and empty blue eyes and the way blood soaked into the sand from the gaping hole in her chest. Too familiar. It bore too much resemblance to the childhood memory that burned a hole in his pocket.

He scrambled away from her.

Behind him, the dark haired man in the suit had come to the rescue of the _federale_ with the chunk of metal in his chest. He heard someone tell the dark haired man, "Thank God, you're here to help him."

He spat out sand and rubbed at the blood in his eye.

All around him was death and destruction. Chaos and fear.

A fat, middle aged man walked up behind him then. "You going to sit there all day or are you going to try to help somebody?" the man asked in a superior tone.

Sawyer looked down at the dead body of the young woman and across at the fallen marshal, now surrounded by attendants including the hero of the day. He heard someone call the dark haired man doctor.

Anger ran through him then, an unnamable anger that encompassed everything that had happened to him, everything he'd done, everything he was.

He rose and patted his pockets. He felt the hard metal circle of the marshal's badge. Never knew when that might come in handy. He felt the cool, familiar grip of the gun and pulled his shirt over it to hide it from prying eyes. Never knew when that might come in handy as well. Then he felt the crinkle of paper, of the folded envelope he hadn't taken out again.

Everything he touched died. Everybody who came near him paid for it dearly-with their money or their self-respect-and now with their lives. The woman in the green dress lay there beside him, her eyes full of condemnation.

Liar.

Thief.

Murderer.

Help somebody?

He was only good at helping himself.

Finally his fingers found what he was looking for and he pulled out a pack of cigarettes, the lighter still safely tucked inside.

The fat man still stood before him, his lips pursed in disapproval. "So," the man continued in the same condescending tone his eighth grade math teacher used to use, "are you going to lend a hand over here?"

"Nope, Mr. Rooney," Sawyer replied, forcing his hand to remain steady as he lit one up. "I reckon I'm just going to have a smoke instead."

Then he turned his back on the wreckage behind him and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Since I forgot to put this on Chapter One and since I quote from the show, I thought I'd better make it perfectly clear that I own none of this. Many props to J. J. Abrams and Damon Lindelof and all the other incredibly talented people who created **_**Lost**_** and these wonderful characters. Thanks for letting me play in your sandbox. **

Chapter Two: Identity Crisis

_Pilot Part 2 and Tabula Rasa_

(In which we learn just why Sawyer missed Mars's heart when he tried to euthanize him in "Tabula Rasa".)

Sawyer looked out over the trees. Everything glowed a verdant green in the tropical sunlight. Birds called to each other. The waves crashed behind him with a steady rhythm. Paradise.

But he was in hell.

He sat there in a curving piece of wreckage and smoked and tried not to go there again. But there it was again in his memory and the letter was suddenly in his hands.

He read it without reading it. The words were so familiar, even though he had gone months at a time without ever pulling it out of its hiding place. But every July the hunger for vengeance would rise up in him again like a coiled snake and every July he'd run down another lead, call up another contact.

He always kept his inquiries general. But he'd been working with Hibbs for well over a year, and one night he'd gotten drunk and told too much. He told just why he was looking for a man going by the name of Sawyer running cons in the Deep South in the 70s.

And Hibbs had used it against him.

"Can't trust nobody these days," he whispered under his breath as he read, but he knew that already. He hadn't been able to trust anybody in twenty years. And nobody could trust him.

Every man for himself.

The letter trembled in his fingers as he remembered the last time he read it. He'd read it to a dying Frank Duckett who'd had no idea what he was talking about.

Why had he shot first? Why hadn't he read him the letter first, then shot?

But he knew why.

He'd shot before he lost his nerve to do it at all. He wanted Sawyer dead more than anything in the world. He wanted to be the one who killed him. He'd come back to that damned shrimp truck for one reason only. To kill the man who'd destroyed his life.

But it had been the hardest thing he'd ever done to actually pull the trigger.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and tried to focus. He looked at the childish handwriting and remembered that little boy he'd been.

Then he could see the little boy who had come down the stairs in Houston asking for a story. What had he become? Just who was he?

The sunlight gleamed blinding white against the page, causing his eyes to water. Then out of the corner of his vision he watched as the dark-haired girl-Kate-and the English druggie and the Arab and a couple of others headed off into the jungle.

Where the hell did they think they were going? The Arab had something in his hand. A radio?

Suddenly he knew that whatever it was they were doing, he needed to be there. Anything beat the hell out of sitting on the beach.

He was tired. His feet hurt. He was nearly out of cigarettes. They'd been hiking for hours and if that damn brother/sister duo didn't shut the hell up, he was going to knock both of them into next week.

Finally they'd reached something approaching high ground and that damned Iraqi - the guy was an honest to God Iraqi and still nobody wanted to hear his terrorist theory, what the hell was wrong with these people? - wouldn't turn on that goddamned radio to see if they had any signal yet.

"Just check the damn radio!" he demanded once more.

And as Omar began his smart-ass retort, they heard something in the bushes.

It was large. It was heavy. It was loud. And it was coming directly toward them.

All around him, the group disintegrated into panic. Everybody started to run.

It felt just like that moment when the plane had broken apart in the air. He knew it was coming for him. But he wasn't running. If something wanted him, it could by God come and get him. He wasn't afraid.

In fact, he had a job to do, he realized as he pulled out the pistol. Then he waited for fate to show up.

When it did, he fired and fired again and again until the beast plowed into the ground two feet away from him, still grunting and groaning.

As it lay at his feet bleeding to death, he realized that he'd just come within inches of being torn apart by a damn polar bear.

The thought actually cheered him up. After all, what didn't kill you made you stronger, and he felt just a little bit stronger now.

He walked across the beach aware of two things as Prince Ali made his "we're all in this together" speech. One, nobody was getting off that damn island any time soon, and two, nobody on that beach had the first clue how to survive.

Well, if there was one thing he was good at, really good at, it was surviving. So he got down to business.

Everybody avoided the fuselage like the plague. They knew what was inside. So did he. He'd woken up in there after the crash. He remembered the bodies, hanging down from their belts like broken dolls.

But there were things inside that fuselage that could help them survive. As soon as he crawled inside, flashlight in hand, the sight and the smell set him back a step. An acrid smoke still hung in the air, barely covering the smell of blood and the first hints of decay. Whatever had to be done in there had to be done fast, he realized.

His first task was to take down the hanging bodies and ease them to the floor. Then he began systematically searching the compartments and the storage hatches for everything that was salvageable. If it wasn't nailed down, burned or blood soaked, he took it.

On his third trip in, he surprised a visitor. The doctor had come to plunder at last. The poor bastard looked so guilty opening somebody else's bag.

"Boo." Sawyer couldn't help but grin as the man jumped.

"What are you doing in here?" the doc half snapped, half asked as if he were the only one with permission to be there.

"Trick or treat, same as you." Sawyer half-heartedly peeped into an overhead he'd already checked, entertained as hell by the doc's squeamishness.

"You're looting."

And you're not? He wanted to say, but he tried to keep it light, despite his growing anger, "Aww, you say potato..."

But the doc wouldn't let up. "What's in the bag?" Jack gestured to the duffle Sawyer had in his hand.

A couple of screwdrivers, a pair of scissors, some notepads and pens (in case they all decided to write letters home to stick in a bottle, he guessed), nailpolish remover, a Gameboy (the parts might come in handy at some point, but he did plan to wear the batteries out playing Spongebob first), a John Updike novel, some nail clips, and a hair brush, he thought to himself.

But something truly pernicious inside him made him answer, "Booze, smokes, couple of Playboys. What's in yours?"

"Medicine."

Asshole. "Well, that about sums it up, don't it?"

"Do you do this back home, too - steal from the dead?" the doc continued as he rose to go.

Anger did run through him then and he snapped, "Brother, you've to got wake up and smell the bull crap here. Rescue ain't comin'. You're just wasting your time. You're trying to save a guy who last time I checked had a piece of metal the size of my head sticking out of his bread basket. Let me ask you something? How many of those pills are you going to use to fix him up?"

"As many as it takes," was the weak ass answer.

"Yeah?" Sawyer pierced him with a hard look. "How many you got? You're just not looking at the big picture, Doc. You're still back in civilization."

Jack actually looked a little thoughtful at last. Maybe he was getting through. "Yeah? And where are you?"

Sawyer made his way to the hole in the front of the fuselage and turned to look back at him. "Me?" he gave him a devilish grin. "I'm in the wild." Then he dropped to the sand and walked away. The moment his back was turned, the grin fell away and a look of grim resolve took its place.

He watched Kate pile firewood just beyond the makeshift infirmary that held the dying marshal. Ever since she'd gotten possession of the gun, he'd made it his business to keep an eye on her. He'd known when she pointed the pistol at him that it wasn't the first time she'd done held a gun on a man, no matter how innocent she tried to appear. She might have fooled Captain Arab but he knew better.

Between her anxious interest in the marshal's condition and a few hints from the Staypuft man, he'd put together the essential pieces. She was their fugitive.

And she was carrying.

Well, if island security was going to be in the hands of Bonnie Parker over there, he decided he needed to know just what she was capable of.

A few minutes conversation about putting the marshal out of his misery had appeased him. Whatever she'd done to make the marshal hunt her down, she wasn't a threat to him or anybody else on that island.

He knew that for certain when she'd given him the gun. Then she'd asked him to come with her while she talked to the guy. He stood quietly at the door of the tent, listening to their conversation, ready to step in if it got ugly again.

At last the lawman looked up at Kate, pain wrinkling his forehead. "I'm going to die, right?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Yeah," she whispered.

"So, are you going to do it, or what?" Sawyer watched as Kate turned pale.

"No, Edward," she replied. "I am not going to kill you."

Sawyer stepped forward and passed the man the pistol. Kate stood up and backed away quickly, as if she feared the marshal would turn the gun on her.

But even as Sawyer moved to stand between them, the marshal turned the pistol over in his unsteady hands and tried to hold the muzzle under his chin. Then a rigor of agony ran through him and the gun fell through his fingers.

"Please," he whispered through clenched teeth as Sawyer knelt down beside him to retrieve the weapon. "I can't do it. Please help me." Tears of pain began to run from the corners of the man's eyes, and his entire body convulsed with the waves of agony.

Kate had already turned away, unable to look.

Then Sawyer knew why he was there. He'd already killed a man. He'd already killed a charging bear. He was there because he was the one who could do what needed to be done. The doctor couldn't do it. The Iraqi, Sayid, he probably could, but he probably wouldn't. Nobody else on that beach was capable of making the hard calls, of doing the dirty work of survival.

"You leave now, Kate," he instructed her. There was no reason for her to be present for this.

Then he stood up and took careful aim at the man before him.

"Thank you," the marshal whispered.

As he began to squeeze the trigger, as sure of his course as he had ever been, he heard it. A whisper in the darkness. "_It'll come back around_."

He froze.

His vision blurred and he ran his hand over his eyes to clear them.

"Come on, you bastard," the marshal demanded harshly. "Do it already."

Sawyer forced his hand to stop shaking and squeezed the trigger.

He'd missed, God damn it. How had he missed? One bullet had taken out Frank Duckett without a hitch. This time he'd even been trying to do something noble. How had he missed?

His cigarette wouldn't light and he threw it away angrily.

"Damn it."

Jack walked away from the now quiet tent, throwing a look of pure hatred over his shoulder at him as he passed. Hurley eased around him carefully, as if he might bite, then practically ran to the beach, probably to pass on the gossip.

His eyes blurred again and he wiped at them once more with a shaking hand.

He was losing it. He was losing his edge. And what was worse, he was breaking the first rule of running cons: Always keep a cover. Never show your cards. If one cover breaks down, pull up another one. But never be your true self.

He'd hit that beach raw and honest. Everything he'd done so far had come right out of his purest motivations. And everything he'd done had been wrong.

"Damn it," Sawyer whispered again.

But Kate stopped and stood beside him. She didn't say anything for a long moment; instead she just stared into the fire.

Then she whispered, "Thank you."

"For what?" he growled.

She looked up at him and he noticed a sprinkling of freckles across her nose. "For trying. Thank you for trying, Sawyer." Then she walked away.

Sawyer. At least he'd kept part of his cover intact. At least he'd kept his name to himself.

He gave one last glance back at the tent, then tucked the now-empty gun back into his waistband.

"Thanks for nothin', you bastard," he murmured into the darkness. It had come back around all right.


	3. Chapter 3 He Who Dies with the Most Toys

Chapter 3: He Who Dies with the Most Toys

The sun was too bright. In all his searching through every bag he could lay his hands on, he'd never found a pair of sunglasses. He'd found loads of prescription glasses, which he'd piled up with the various dentures, knee braces, and wrist wraps he'd come across. But every pair of sunglasses had already been claimed by one of the other survivors, usually with a cry of "Hey, my sunglasses!"

Liars.

He watched the blonde girl, Shannon, scratch at her legs with a grin. She had a pair of shades. If she'd hadn't gotten all pissy earlier, they could have worked out a trade that would have been good for both of them.

But she'd rather be offended by him than talk to him. Fine.

Meanwhile, he found himself a partially shady spot there beneath some wreckage and pulled out a smoke, the last in the pack.

Damn it. He only had half a carton left. He guessed he'd be quitting soon.

"Hey," came a voice beside him. "Can I bum one of those?" The guy gestured at the cigarette.

"Nope," Sawyer answered flatly.

"Asshole," the guy murmured as he walked away.

Hell, no, he couldn't bum one. Cigarettes were an endangered species on this island. He'd be damned if he'd encourage the guy to keep pestering him for another hit, knowing he'd be out soon anyway.

His gaze passed over the beach leisurely; after all, he had nothing but time. Everybody just sat around, waiting for a rescue that wasn't coming.

They were clearly on their own, but he'd be damned if he'd just hand over everything he'd managed to salvage to anybody who asked for it. Trade, yes. That was the way things worked. He'd worked for everything he'd ever gotten – maybe his line of work was unorthodox, but it was still work – and he'd worked for everything he'd taken off the plane.

But soon things were going to get desperate. They were going to need food and water. But nobody so far had managed to screw up the courage to go looking.

He'd made a few forays into the trees, hiding his stashes of supplies but hadn't seen any sign of water or much else. And without any more bullets for the gun, he wasn't too excited about venturing unarmed into a jungle full of damn polar bears.

He'd looked death in its big black eyes when that thing had charged them, all in the name of taking one for the greater good. Somebody else could risk his neck this time.

And he'd be damned if he'd just give things away to that useless crew on the beach.

As if on cue, the fat guy came over just as he pulled out one of his last few packs of peanuts.

"Dude, you've got peanuts?" he asked.

"What's it to you, Mr. French?"

The big guy looked completely confused by the reference and Sawyer realized he'd gone back a little too far with that one.

"You need to share those with the group," Lardo spouted back.

Sawyer looked down at the four packs he had left in his backpack and laughed at him. "Like that would do any damn good," he replied sarcastically. Then he zipped the pack up again and got up to go.

But the big guy actually grabbed at his pack. "What's your problem? Hand them over," he demanded.

"How about no?" Sawyer swung the pack away from him, but the big guy didn't let up.

"There's other people here or don't you give a crap?"

But fighting dirty was nothing new to him and Sawyer's answer came back mean as he hit way below the big man's belt. "Well, if one of us wouldn't eat more than his fair share. . ."

"Oh, that's bull and you know it," the big man snapped, still grabbing at him. "You're not happy unless you're screwing over everybody!"

Once Locke had made his fancy show with the knives, Sawyer had walked away, still clutching his backpack tight in his fingers. The others just stared at him. That kid with the dog even shook his head as he passed.

Damn it.

Everybody on that beach thought that whatever he had ought to be theirs.

Hell, he wasn't interested in screwing over anybody. He hadn't taken a single thing that legitimately belonged to somebody else. If he was like that, he'd have already had a pair of goddamned sunglasses.

But what he had managed to save was his. And now that they were talking about burning the fuselage, it was a good thing he'd salvaged it. Nobody wanted to go much farther inside than pulling out the first rows of seats. The further in they went, the more carnage they'd find. Especially since those damn boars had been using it as a dining car.

He headed back into the treeline to put his pack back in its hiding place, keeping an eye out all the while for anybody tailing him. What he had was valuable; it was worth something on this miserable rock. He'd done the dirty work of collecting it; now it was his. Anybody that had a problem with good old fashioned commerce could just kiss his ass.

But as much as he hated being on that beach with a bunch of people that hated him – he guessed for being better prepared than the rest of them – he couldn't stay away. He watched from the perimeter as Locke, Kate, and the kid's dad – Michael – armed up Apache style to go boar hunting.

He'd never done any hunting growing up, preferring to practice his marksmanship on man shaped targets instead, but he knew something about wild pigs. He knew that Locke spoke the truth: those things were large, dangerous, and smart. He'd almost rather tangle with another polar bear than take on one of those monsters with a knife.

He'd had a run-in with a hog on his great-uncle's farm when he was a little boy. He'd slipped into the pigpen to see the piglets and the dam hadn't liked it. The look of real terror on his mother's face when that sow tried to run him down had convinced him that the old folks weren't lying when they said that mama pig could kill him.

And he knew that a wild hog was that much worse. He watched Kate slip her knife into her belt and head out into the woods, and he almost followed them.

But he didn't. He hadn't been invited on that little adventure.

The pregnant girl, Claire, and another woman were going through bags a few feet away from him.

"Looks like I'm not the only one searching through luggage after all," he couldn't help but comment.

"I'm trying to find a hairbrush," Claire admitted. "Nobody has a hairbrush."

She sat back with a sigh, then picked up a half-burned book of some kind from the pile. "Oh, my gosh," she exclaimed as she flipped through the pages. "This is so sad."

After a long silence, curiosity got the best of him and he had to ask, "What? What's so sad?"

"This is Kirsten's wedding planner. She and her fiancée Steve were getting married next month in L.A." She opened the book to a large engagement photo.

The guy he didn't recognize, but he knew the blonde woman instantly. The last time he saw her, she had been wearing a green dress and had a huge hole in her chest where some shrapnel from the last explosion had torn through her. He'd been trying to pull her away when it happened.

"They were such a sweet couple. They were so in love." Claire ran a finger tenderly across the photo.

He couldn't say anything.

"We need to do some kind of memorial service for these people," she sighed. "They might have been strangers but their deaths matter to us, don't you think?"

But Sawyer was trying really hard not to think these days. Without a word, he got up and walked away.

He was still close enough to hear when she turned to other woman and commented, "What an asshole."

He headed out again into the jungle, far enough away that he couldn't hear the chatter from the group. After a short walk, he exited the treeline again on a quiet stretch of beach. It was separated from their beach by a rough outcropping of rocks, so he knew he wouldn't be disturbed.

He shucked off his clothes and headed out into the waves for a swim. The water felt cool against his skin as he scrubbed himself hard with handfuls of sand from the bottom. Then he let himself drift for a little while, wondering how bad it would be to just let himself float farther out to sea, so far that he couldn't get back again.

But he couldn't do it.

He cursed himself for a coward and pulled himself up onto a rock to dry before getting dressed again.

He pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Empty.

Fine then, he'd go get another one.

The last of his cigarettes were stashed a short walk away in a secluded stand of banana trees. He felt a little bad about not telling the group that he knew where to find some food.

But it was a great hiding place with a little hollow in the side of a bluff that made a natural shelter just big enough for one. He could catch rain off the banana leaves for a water supply and be pretty comfortable there if push came to shove.

But the minute he took a bunch of bananas back to the beach every single person there would be screaming at him to tell them where he found them. They'd have the trees stripped in a matter of days. He decided it was much better to keep his little secret hideaway just that – secret.

So he pulled a pack of smokes out of his hidden suitcase and tucked himself up into his shelter on a bed of banana leaves to kick back for a while.

The day was warm, but his hair was still damp and he was tired after his swim. Soon, the buzzing of insects and the call of birds had him drowsing and his eyes drifted shut.

"I know, Jimmy," his uncle patted him on the shoulder. "But we can't take much with us. There just isn't room. You can take whatever you can fit in this box."

His Aunt Noreen had already packed up as much of his clothing that would fit in his daddy's Samsonite suitcase. He remembered sitting on the end of the bed, watching his daddy pack it for another business trip.

Now his daddy was gone again, but it wasn't on a trip like that anymore. He wasn't coming back this time.

And neither was his mama.

Alone in his room, he carefully tore out a piece of paper from his notebook, folded it, and stuck it in his pocket. He needed an envelope for it, but he didn't want to look for one. The desk with the envelopes was in the wide central hallway of the house and that was where he'd found his mother.

He'd come out from under his bed after a long time and had gone to look for her. She'd been lying on the floor by the desk, a big red hole in her chest.

He always thought of people looking like they were asleep when they died, but his daddy hadn't looked asleep. His mama hadn't either. Her eyes were wide open, but blank. She lay on her side and he'd stroked her long blonde hair until the pool of blood had gotten too close to him. Then he'd gone outside to sit on the porch.

Now he stood in his room and looked around. They were going to take him to live in Tennessee with his Uncle Doug and Aunt Noreen. He didn't want to go, but that was what was going to happen.

The box sat in the middle of the floor. It was a banana box from the grocery store with holes in the sides and Cockrell Banana Co. written on it. It wasn't very big either.

His bed was gone, but he could still remember all the red from where blood had poured out of his dad's head onto his quilts and pillow. He really wanted his stuffed Snoopy, but it was gone too. Aunt Noreen had told him it couldn't be saved.

He couldn't take Snoopy with him. So what else did he want, he wondered.

He looked over all his toys and books. His Erector set wouldn't fit in the box. Neither would his Spyrograph. He was too old for Lincoln logs even though he still really liked to play with them. He didn't want his cousins to laugh at him, so he left the big round can on the floor.

He put in a deck of cards, mostly because they would fit. Then he put in three books he'd already read, but he wanted them because it was the first time his mother had let him order books from Scholastic Books when the Bookmobile came to school. He'd really liked Stuart Little.

Then he went across the hall into his parents' bedroom. He lay down on their bed and smelled his mama's pillow. It still smelled like her. He breathed in her scent and closed his eyes. Maybe if he wished hard enough, he'd wake up and it would all be a dream and she wouldn't be dead in the hallway and his daddy wouldn't be bleeding all over his Snoopy.

"Jimmy?" he heard his uncle call.

His eyes flew open. He grabbed his mother's pillow, ran into his room, and stuffed it into the box. There wasn't room for anything else.

He picked up the box, aware of how light it was with only a pillow, three books and a deck of cards in it. He looked around at everything he had to leave behind. He didn't have anything anymore. Not his mom and dad, not his room, not his Erector set, not his Snoopy.

But before he started to cry, he turned and walked out.

Sawyer awoke with a start, his fingers reaching for something, but he didn't know what.

He didn't have anything anymore – just a few books he'd pulled from the drink, some odds and ends, a few packs of smokes, a few mini bottles of liquor.

Hell, he didn't even have a pair of sunglasses.

But he did have some wallets he'd picked up in the fuselage. Well, to be real honest, he'd taken them from the bodies. He could try to tell himself that he was taking them so that the rescuers could return them to their owners' next of kin, but he knew better than that.

"Hey, uh . . ." he stammered a little as he walked up to the pregnant girl a while later.

"Hey," she sounded actually surprised to see him.

"These were, um. . ." he began awkwardly. "I found these the other day when I was. . ."

_Damn it. Why does this have to be so hard?_ he wondered. Finally he just held the stack of wallets out to her. "Aw hell, just, just take it."

"Thank you." She sounded even more surprised, but glad.

And surprisingly, so was he.

**Author's Note: Please, somebody, review! This is killing me! If you are out there and liking this at all, please let me know. After all, we make no money off fanfiction. Your reviews are the only pay I'll ever get. :sniff, sniff: So please review. . . . **


	4. Chapter 4 The Birthday Wish

Chapter 4 The Birthday Wish

_White Rabbit_

"It's about time! I made this birthday wish four years ago," he teased as Kate leaped onto him. It felt so damned good too. He grabbed her and rolled them both over so that she lay beneath him. Hell, that was even better.

Even after Omar had pulled him off of her, he could still feel the heat of her skin against his. Damn, it felt good.

- 0 -

Even though they hadn't found any extra water on him, he could tell from the looks he got all around the camp that the lynch mob on the beach still thought he'd stolen it.

Fine. Let 'em think.

That night, everybody talked about the prospect of heading to the doc's caves where the water ran clear and the living was easy.

There was no way in hell he was going to live in any cave. Closed in spaces didn't appeal to him in any way. He had too many incarcerations under his belt to knowingly put himself in a small room with only one way out.

Around the fire, he watched as the kid snuggled up to his dog. The Korean duo sat close, and even that fighting brother/sister pair shared a blanket against the cool night air. But he couldn't bring himself to truly join the circle. As soon as he did, he felt sure whoever he sat next to would find some reason to get up. Nothing too obvious of course, but enough to give a clear signal to the rest of that judgmental bunch that they didn't approve of him.

Fine.

As they all crawled off at last to their respective sleeping spots, he stepped up to the dying fire and warmed himself briefly. Then he too made his way to bed.

- 0 -

_1976_

"Aunt Noreen?"

"What is it, Jimmy?" she answered in a sleepy voice. Then she raised her head as she adjusted the scarf that covered her pink foam rollers so she could see the clock. "Damnit, Jimmy, it's four in the morning. What do you want?"

"I had a bad dream."

She gave him an awkward pat on the arm as his Uncle Doug rolled over with a snort. "It's okay, hon'. Go back to sleep."

He stood there beside the bed for a long moment.

Then she patted his arm again. "Go on back to bed, Jimmy," she repeated.

He walked down the narrow hall of the single-wide back to the tiny room he shared with his teenaged cousin Mike. Mike sprawled across his bed, dead to the world, his long frame barely fitting onto the mattress.

Jimmy crept past him and slid back under the covers of his own narrow bed. The sheets had gotten cold while he stood in his aunt and uncle's room, debating whether or not to wake them.

He shivered as he pulled his mother's pillow into his arms tightly and breathed in as deep as he could.

But it wasn't any use.

It didn't smell like her any more.

Then he cried as quietly as he could so Mike wouldn't hear.

- 0 -

_House of the Rising Sun_

"So are you one of those hard core spinal surgeons?" Kate was asking in a teasing voice.

Sawyer just listened from a distance as the doc brushed Kate off again. _How stupid is this guy?_ he thought. _How much more obvious does she have to be? _

"If you guys have finished verbally copulating . . ." Sawyer turned completely away when the English runt showed up. Besides, he'd heard enough.

He watched Kate as she headed off the beach toward the caves, her braid swinging seductively behind her with every step. Damn, she'd felt good.

A little while later, a commotion on the beach pulled his attention away from his book. Pissed him off too, since he was at a really good part. The bunnies had just met up with a group from another warren and he was almost certain that crew was up to no good.

But he got up to see what the ruckus was and caught up to Sayid who was running to break up a fight on the beach.

Sawyer pulled a nearly unconscious Michael out of the surf in time to keep the man from drowning, then provided a set of cuffs to keep the homicidal Korean from finishing the job.

But even though it was Sayid who actually cuffed the would-be murderer to the fuselage, somehow when word got around the beach, the story was that he'd done it.

Fine. He could be the bad guy. Somebody had to do it.

Even water-stealing Boone had been taken back into the fold when he'd come walking up with a handful of fruit. It couldn't have been more than five pieces, but you'd have thought he'd brought back a crateful judging by the reception.

Fine.

He considered raiding his little stand of banana trees to curry some favor for himself, then decided against it. He didn't need any good will.

Somebody had to be the bad guy.

- 0 -

_1998_

"You are such a cold bastard, you know that?" Kilo shook his head and laughed as Sawyer handed him his share of the $130,000 he'd taken from his last mark.

"Cold?" Sawyer pretended to be offended.

"How you can be all lovey-dovey one minute to them girls then rob them blind the next. You amaze me, Sawyer," Kilo said with a grin as he thumbed through the stacks of cash before him.

"Hell, I'm doing those girls a favor," Sawyer responded easily. "Better that I should teach them a lesson in how to keep their thighs together and their pocketbooks closed than somebody who's even less scrupulous than I am. And the poor guys they're with need to know just what kind of woman they married. Damnit, I'm a public servant!"

Kilo just laughed. "So you got the next one lined up?"

"Absolutely."

"Another blonde?"

"Hey, blondes have more fun."

Within 48 hours, Sawyer was up to his favorite activity in the entire world. That blonde held him in her arms and called out his name repeatedly until he finally collapsed beside her, utterly spent and completely at peace. A few more sessions like this and she'd be practically begging him to take her $140,000 and rescue her from her miserable life.

But right that minute, he wanted to enjoy the feeling of belonging somewhere. She put her arms around him and played with his hair as he gave a deep, contented sigh and drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later in the night, he dreamed.

"_God damn it, Mary! You gave that bastard everything?" his daddy's voice roared down the hall. He didn't like to hear his parents fight but this one was the worst he'd ever heard. Jimmy clutched at his Snoopy and closed his eyes. Maybe it would be over soon. _

"_It's a sure thing, Warren! Mr. Sawyer has an inside tip on gold prices. You know how much gold has gone up just in the past few months. He's going to triple our money in less than thirty days!" his mama shouted. _

"_But did you have to have sex with him, Mary? That's all I want to know. Did you have to screw the bastard?" His daddy sounded so mad. His voice was like an animal growling. _

"_I know where to find him. I'll make sure he gives the money back if you don't want to go through with it," she said, her voice firm. _

"_I _bet_ you know where to find him." Then Jimmy heard steps as his daddy walked out the front door of the house. _

"_Where are you going?" his mama called out. She sounded like she was on the porch. _

"_I can't look at you anymore," his daddy yelled. "I'm going to get a drink." _

"_Fine! Go!" _

_But his daddy's truck door had already slammed. Jimmy listened to the sound of tires spinning gravel as he drove off. _

_Then his mama came into his room and sat on his bed beside him. "Jimmy, I'm sorry me and your daddy were fighting. You know everything's going to be okay, right?" she asked as she put her arms around him. _

_He snuggled up next to her and nodded. Everything would be all right. _

He woke in the darkness of the hotel room with a start. Where was he?

"Sawyer? Are you okay?"

He wanted to tell her his name wasn't Sawyer, but the dream was fading rapidly. All he could remember was that somebody was holding him tight. Somebody who loved him.

"I'm fine," he whispered into her ear, then pulled her closer to him. She was so warm, so soft. He just wished he could remember her name.

_The Moth_

Sawyer packed his bags with a satisfied grin on his face. The doc and several more were headed to set up camp in the caves, but Kate was staying behind.

Jackass should have worked harder to convince her to go, he decided. Sawyer was in high spirits indeed as he foresaw evenings by the fire without the distracting presence of the only professional man on the island-unless you counted that tax attorney, what was his name? Steve? Scott? And he didn't count him as a professional at all.

All he needed was a little time to turn on the charm.

Then he realized he'd been anything but charming so far. In fact, he'd been pretty much a sexist pig the entire week. Nothing pissed a woman off more than to treat her like an object and he'd gone out of his way to treat every woman on the island like an object.

As he walked up to Jack's old tent – his _new_ tent – he could hear the two of them still bantering about whether or not she should pull up stakes and go shack up with him. He just couldn't resist the urge to pig it up a little bit more for Jack's benefit. The doc needed to head off to those caves knowing that Sawyer was back at the beach, making time with his girl. It would do the man good to sweat a little. Maybe if he worried about it enough, he'd cowboy up and do right by her.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't, and Sawyer could make a little time of his own. He grinned widely as Jack walked away.

Later on that morning, he wasn't grinning any more.

Her words had cut to the quick. Nobody missed him. He didn't miss anybody. She pitied him. He'd given her the battery from the laptop for whatever project she and Radio Shack had cooked up, but it had cost him a good deal in self-respect to do it.

She pitied him?

He didn't want her pity or anybody else's.

But deep inside, he knew he was truly pitiful. He knew she was right in everything she'd said.

He sat in his tent and tried to read, but the words blurred before his eyes.

Everything he'd done on that island had been wrong. Everything he'd done before they'd crashed there had been wrong. Even when he thought he was doing a brave and noble thing, full of justice and courage, he'd been wrong.

He could still smell the gunpowder.

_Son of a bitch. _

He gave up trying to read and went outside to wash some clothes.

When the rockstar showed up, all covered in dust declaring that Jack had been buried in a cave-in, he knew it was his chance to do something right for a change. He knew where Kate and Sayid had gone. He'd catch up to them and tell her. Then she'd know that he wasn't all bad.

He ran through the jungle, following the path they'd taken and was out of breath sooner than he wanted. Damned cigarettes. Well, he didn't have many left. He guessed his bad habit would soon be broken out of necessity.

"Hey!" he called out.

And she gave him an "eat shit and die" look that stopped him in his tracks. "What the hell are you doing here?" she snapped.

It all went downhill from there.

In between waiting for five o'clock to show up to set off Inspector Gadget's bottle rocket, he couldn't help but wonder why she turned all pissy on him. Had that curly headed Arab said something to her? What could he have said? Pretty much everything bad to know about him on that damned island was already public knowledge.

Then he felt the crinkle of paper in his back pocket and thought to himself, _Nope, there's still plenty more bad to know. _

But that didn't answer the question of why she was so bitchy. Finally, her last crack had him pushed into fighting dirty himself.

"So, what is it about that guy – Jack," he began in a leading tone as she sat down beside him. "What is it that makes you all weak in the loins?"

"Do you try to be a pig, or does it just come naturally?" she retorted.

He shrugged that one off since he knew she was right. He had been a pig. "So, he's a doctor, right? Yeah, the ladies dig the doctors," he teased. "Hell, give me a couple of band aids, a bottle of peroxide, I could run this Island too."

"You're actually comparing yourself to Jack?" she sounded incredulous.

The worst part was that she was being completely honest. He'd been teasing her about trying to become a doctor's second wife, and she'd just torched him.

He knew right then just how he stacked up in her eyes. He came in way behind the good doctor, our hero, the island's savior, the man who shit gold on this rock.

Even as he told her that the difference between them wasn't so big, he didn't believe it himself. He knew what he was. He knew what he'd done.

And the worst part was that she knew too.

After she'd run off to check on her precious surgeon, he pulled the letter out of his pocket and spent the next several hours rereading it and remembering just what kind of person he really was.

It was dark before he finally came back to camp.

- 0 –

When he hit the beach, nobody noticed. All but a few of them had gone to bed, and those few never even turned around to see who was walking up.

He looked around for Kate, but she wasn't in her usual spot. He guessed she was back at the caves.

He wondered if the doc was okay.

Then he wondered why he gave a shit.

Certainly Jack didn't give a shit about him. And neither did Kate.

And neither did anybody else on that damned island.

Fine.

Nobody missed him and he didn't miss nobody.

He looked out over the group. The kid lay curled up between his dog and his dad. The Korean couple lay closer together than they had for the past week. Even Steve (or was it Scott?) the tax accountant had found somebody to snuggle up beside.

Then Sawyer went back to his new tent on the outskirts of the camp, far away from the rest of them.

_Hell,_ he thought to himself, _some people are meant to be alone. _

He lay there for a very long time before he finally went to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5 Exorcism

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, we are up to Confidence Man! I am so tickled to get to play with this one. Going to air some of my favorite Sawyer theories now. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed! It thrills my soul and makes my day to know you are out there reading. Please, oh, please don't hesitate to review. I even enabled Anonymous reviews so you don't even have to log in. On the other hand, I don't think I can write you back if you review anonymously and I love to write back! Anyway, please enjoy and let me know if you do! **

**PS: I apologize that it's so long! But there is so much ground to cover in this episode!**

Chapter 5 Exorcism

_Confidence Man_

He woke to the sounds of an argument happening in hushed whispers just outside the door of his tent.

"I know he's got them!" that blue-eyed pretty boy was saying to bald-headed Yul Brynner. "All I'm asking is that you go with me to make him give them to me."

"No, Boone," old baldie replied in that overly reasonable tone of voice he favored lately. "If you want them, you have to be the one to get them. Or better yet, they belong to Shannon. She should get them. No go-betweens."

"You know how he is, Locke. He won't give them up without asking for something ridiculous. He wanted $5,000 for a can of insect repellent. He's a thief and an extortionist!"

Sawyer wanted to laugh out loud at that one. As if he actually expected that stupid princess to go pull $5,000 cash off her AmEx at the nearest ATM. Didn't these people have any sense of humor at all?

"I'm telling you, John," Boone kept on mouthing off, "that guy is dangerous. We don't know who he is or what he's done. Truthfully, I took the water because I was afraid he would. And before I let Shannon get hurt, I'll deal with him. But I need your help, John."

Locke sighed and turned to walk away. "If you want something from Sawyer, go ask him for it, Boone," he said firmly.

"Good advice, John Boy," Sawyer thought to himself and waited to see if the young man would take it. But Boone just turned away and followed Locke toward the path to the caves.

Sawyer sighed and quit pretending to be asleep. As he pulled on his boots, he wondered just how much worse his reputation could get. Then he wondered why he cared and decided it was time for a swim.

- 0 –

All the while he was swimming, he couldn't help thinking about what Boone had said. They didn't know who he was or what he'd done.

Truer words were never spoken, he decided. Nobody on that island knew who he was or what he'd done.

He berated himself again for not pulling up a cover and starting a con from the beginning. It wouldn't have been any trouble to have used the cover that had gotten him to Australia – he was Doug Clancy, a metal buyer looking for new suppliers for the growing auto industry in the Deep South.

He could toss out enough of the buzzwords to satisfy any but the most determined interrogator. And who in their right mind would want to talk about sheet metal? Apart from that anally-retentive science teacher.

As Clancy, he could have been the nice guy, helping people build shelters, sharing supplies, making time with Kate or one of the other girls, and still managed to stick away a few essential items for a rainy day.

But no, he berated himself. He had to ditch his cover and hit the beach as the angry, self-serving son of a bitch he really was. He'd defaulted to Sawyer's name but left all of Sawyer's easy-going charm somewhere in mid-air over the Pacific.

Damn it.

A movement near the treeline caught his attention and he began to tread water quietly.

"Well, I'll be damned," he murmured to himself as Kate headed over with a bunch of his bananas over her shoulder. Shit, how had she found them? Had she found anything else? Was his stash still secure?

She came upon his clothing there and he decided it was time for a little confrontation.

He was naked, but that didn't matter. Maybe it was time for _that_ little confrontation as well.

- 0 –

As he watched Kate walk away, unmoved by his coarse flirtation, he wished again that Sawyer's charm hadn't fallen out of the plane somewhere over Bali.

Her words stung him as he'd once again come up short in her estimation. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Sawyer," had been her sarcastic retort as she strolled away.

The truth was he was a master at making a girl feel special. He knew exactly what to say to a woman that would make her feel so special that she'd fall madly in love with him and betray her husband just so he would keep making her feel special.

So why hadn't he used any of that on Kate? Why hadn't he used any of that on anybody on that island?

Because nobody on that island had anything he wanted, that was why.

Nobody needed him and he didn't need anybody. He dressed quickly and picked up his book to go back to the beach. But his suspicions were alerted by a noise in the trees ahead, and he heard the thief before he saw him.

He ran into the banana grove to find Boone tumbling through his hidden suitcase. How the hell had he found that?

"What are you doing in my stuff, son?" Sawyer asked as he grabbed Boone by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Where are they, Sawyer?" Boone demanded. "I know you've got Shannon's inhalers. Give them to me."

"What the hell makes you think I've got anything that belongs to you?" Sawyer snapped back at him.

Boone snatched _Watership Down_ out of his hand. "This belongs to me, you asshole. Now where are her inhalers?"

Sawyer took a deep breath. "You need to just walk away before your mouth starts writing checks your ass can't cash," he stated. "I got no clue-"

But Boone shoved him back against a tree. "Give them to me now, or so help me I'll . . ."

Saywer shoved him away hard. "Take your hands off me, boy," he snarled.

When Boone picked up a fallen branch, Sawyer leaped on him in a flying tackle, sending them both to the ground hard. The branch caught Boone on the side of the head as he fell and blood began to pour down his face from the three inch scrape.

After two licks, the kid lay on the forest floor, groaning and holding his nose, all the fight gone out of him.

"Stay out of my stuff, boy," Sawyer instructed gruffly as he piled the last few cigarettes and the loose bottles of airline liquor back into the suitcase and zipped it shut.

- 0 –

_1977_

"I told you to stay out of my stuff, punk," Mike yelled at him as he pulled the comic book out of Jimmy's hand.

"But it was just laying on your bed!" Jimmy yelled back. "I didn't get in your stuff!"

All the same, Mike jumped on him and pushed his face into the pillow so that he couldn't breathe. When black spots started to swirl before his eyes, his cousin finally let him go. Jimmy sat up, gulping big breaths of air. Then Mike slapped him on the back of the head so hard his ears rang.

"What are you boys doing in there?" Aunt Noreen hollered from the kitchen.

"Jimmy's been digging in my stuff, Mom!" Mike called and headed out of the room to tell on him.

"No, I wasn't," Jimmy started, but Aunt Noreen just turned away from him.

"Leave your cousin's things alone, Jimmy," she said in a bored voice, then went back to pouring the milk into the macaroni and cheese for dinner.

After dinner, he tried to tell Uncle Doug what happened, but his uncle just sighed and told him to stay out of Mike's things in the future.

"But I didn't do anything!" Jimmy retorted with a shout.

"That's enough, James!" Aunt Noreen stood up and took him by the arm, then hauled him out of the living room and pushed him through his bedroom door. "You're going to stay in here until you shape up your attitude, young man."

He could hear the sounds of the television in the other room. Little House was on. He could tell from the music, but he couldn't understand what they were saying. He tried to read, but he'd already read the books he had and Aunt Noreen wouldn't take him back to the library again until next week when she went to get her hair done.

He wished the librarian would let him check out more than five books at a time. He tried to pick really thick ones so they'd last longer, but he still always finished them within days.

Finally, he could hear the ending music of Little House and the opening music of Quincy. But they still didn't let him out.

Sometime during a commercial, Uncle Doug came to the door. "You ready to behave?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Jimmy answered.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to get punished for something he didn't even do.

Then he remembered what his science teacher had told him the day he got paddled for talking when it wasn't him - it was Keith Davis who'd been talking. "Sometimes the paddling you get isn't for what you did this time. It's for all the times you didn't get caught."

He guessed this one was for all the other times he really had gotten into Mike's stuff.

He sat on the couch as far away from Mike as he could get. But his cousin still managed to poke him hard in the ribs the minute his aunt and uncle weren't looking.

He wondered what he was paying for now. What had he done that put him there instead of being at home with his mama and daddy? Whatever it was, it must have been bad.

- 0 –

Sawyer carefully restashed his suitcase, aware that his cigarette count was now extremely low. Maybe if he went back through the luggage again he could turn up some nicotine gum. Then he wouldn't have to quit cold turkey.

Down the beach, the rockstar and the expectant mother seemed to be getting along just fine. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but judging from the water and the smiles, he guessed old Charlie was trying to make time with her.

Brave soul, Sawyer decided, to pick the one woman on the beach that came complete with extra responsibilities. Hell, she was like a freaking time bomb just waiting to go off.

But that English runt just sat there with her like he was actually excited about being a father or something and as far as Sawyer knew, the two hadn't even met until they hit the beach.

He watched Claire rub her belly with a smile and thought about Cassidy. She'd done it alone.

But hell, it wasn't as if he could have been there with her seeing as how he was in prison the whole time – and she had been the one who'd put him there for conning her. She'd been alone by her own choice, he figured.

All the same, he wished he'd never pulled that job. And he'd absolutely wished he'd never agreed to be in on that Tampa business.

He never liked to run other people's cons. He would much rather play to his strengths, and his bread and butter was the con he learned from his own parents.

During moments of introspection, he wondered if he ran that one over and over hoping to find one couple that would see through it. One woman who would be faithful to her husband. One husband who would protect his wife.

Or maybe he ran it over and over to prove to himself that his parents weren't the only people in the world to fail. That his mama wasn't any weaker than any other woman out there. That his daddy wasn't any worse than any other man out there.

Or maybe he was just trying to get even with them for leaving him. Maybe every couple he took for their life savings were just standing in for his real targets, Warren and Mary Ford.

When Jack found him that morning, he was reading his letter one more time, trying to decide just who to blame for how it had all turned out.

- 0 –

"Just what the hell is Jack's problem?" Sawyer muttered under his breath as the doc stormed off down the beach. He wished Kate hadn't come up just at that moment. Maybe Jack would have finally gone ahead and thrown a punch. Then they could fight it out like men and maybe come out on the other side with a better understanding of each other.

Jack had shown up pissed off, demanding things he didn't even have. His attitude had been so combative that Sawyer hadn't bothered trying to explain to him. It wouldn't have done any good. Dr. Kildare wouldn't have believed him anyway.

He was sick and tired of everybody on that damn island thinking they knew him. They all thought they had him pegged. Nobody ever just asked him for anything. Every negotiation was hostile from the start.

And he truly didn't know where it had begun.

Maybe he did blow off Scott (or was it Steve?) when he asked for a cigarette, but that was for the guy's own good.

And Boone probably did look the worse for wear when he showed up at the doctor's office up in the caves. But damn it, he'd done the worst of it to himself with that stick he'd picked up.

Truthfully, he wished Boone had jumped him with that thing and laid him out cold, then gone through all his stuff while he lay unconscious and bleeding. Then he could have shown up at the doc's as the injured party. After all, he didn't have any damned inhalers, never had. Wouldn't know them if he saw them.

But even if Boone had killed him, the rest of that bunch would have just shrugged and said he had it coming.

And maybe he did. Maybe he'd just be paying for all the stuff he'd never been caught for.

Cassidy.

Duckett.

Tampa.

Hell, no. Strike Tampa off that list. He'd paid for Tampa, damn it. It was on his rap sheet now.

Maybe he'd just be paying in advance for what he was going to do to Hibbs if he ever got home. He owed him big time now.

- 0 –

_1980_

"Come on, Noreen," Uncle Doug stood at the door of the trailer as Aunt Noreen took out yet another box of stuff. Jimmy wondered if they'd have anything left.

"I'm done, Doug," his aunt replied. "I'm tired of being here and dealing with all your crap and with all his crap."

"Don't drag Jimmy into this, Noreen," Doug stepped in front of her. "None of our problems are his fault."

"Well, if he hadn't been here to take up my time and our money, maybe Mike wouldn't be in jail right now." Noreen pushed into Doug with her box full of decorative pieces from Home Interior. Jimmy decided he wouldn't miss any of that stuff.

His cousin Mike had gotten caught joy-riding in the assistant principal's car. It had been about time he got caught, Jimmy thought. He hoped Mike would stay in jail for at least a few more days. It had been great having his own room again.

But it looked like Aunt Noreen was serious about leaving this time. She moved back in with her mom about once a year, but this time she was actually taking stuff out of the house.

Maybe she'd take Mike too once he got out of jail.

Uncle Doug and Aunt Noreen took their conversation outside, leaving Jimmy to sit on the couch with a re-run of Gilligan's Island. He'd been out of school for over two months with mono. Truthfully he'd be glad to go back. He'd watched all the Little House and General Hospital he could take.

Aunt Noreen had taken off a lot of work to stay with him too. He guessed that was part of what made her so mad at him. He'd felt so bad and been so sick. And he'd wanted his mama so much. Aunt Noreen just wasn't his mama.

And Uncle Doug was nice, but he wasn't his daddy. And this wasn't his house or his room.

It wasn't his life. His life was gone.

"You all right, sport?" Uncle Doug asked as he sat on the couch with a sigh.

"Yeah," Jimmy answered. "I'm just tired. I'm going to lie down for a while."

Uncle Doug opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then just nodded. "I'll throw something together for dinner here shortly," he finally called as Jimmy headed down the hall.

At least he'd have his own room again.

- 0 –

Sawyer headed to grab a bite to eat in the makeshift kitchen they'd put together on the beach, only to find that there wasn't much left. Sure enough, that plague of locusts had devoured the bunch of bananas Kate had brought back. There was only one left and it was small with a seriously squished place on one side.

It looked like all the boar they had left was the tail. So he picked off as much of the meat as he could, then picked up a few scraps of fish and the half squished banana and took a seat by the fire.

"Get enough to eat?" came a voice behind him as he finished.

"Not really," he answered and turned to see Rose standing there.

"We could use some more firewood," she suggested as she handed him the axe.

"Yes, ma'am." He got up and took it with a sigh. He knew Rose's credo – if he won't work, he don't eat. So he guessed he'd better put in a few minutes of labor.

The axe bit into the wood and the impact stung his palms. He could feel his muscles stretch as he swung the axe overhead. It reminded him of cutting wood with his uncle.

They'd been cutting wood the day his Uncle Doug had gotten the first of the really bad headaches that finally sent him to the doctor. He died six months later, halfway into his nephew's freshman year in high school.

A whiff of smoke from the fire on the beach floated past him and he was taken back to those days in the woods with his uncle. He remembered splitting the big logs with a sledgehammer and wedge while Uncle Doug ran the chainsaw.

Uncle Doug and Aunt Noreen had been divorced for years when he died. He thought maybe he could go live with her when it happened, but he'd overheard her tell some ladies at the funeral home that he wasn't her responsibility. He never bothered to ask even though he didn't have any place else to go.

His life had changed dramatically when his parents died, but when he lost his uncle, he quit being a kid entirely. He hitchhiked to Nashville without much more than the clothes on his back and had fallen in with the kind of crowd that didn't ask too many questions.

He grew up literally overnight into a bitter, desperate young man, willing to do practically anything to keep food in his belly and a place to sleep where he wouldn't get his throat cut in the middle of the night.

He'd had dreams before that, dreams of going to college and becoming something important like a lawyer or a judge. So much for dreams.

He kept hacking away at the wood as if he could cut up the past with the axe.

His thoughts were dark indeed when he realized he had a visitor.

- 0 –

Long after she'd left, he still held the letter clenched in his hand. He wondered why he'd done it. He wondered why he'd made her read about the darkest moment in his life. He wondered why he'd led her to believe that he was the Sawyer in the letter. He wondered why he wanted her to think he was that man.

Because he could have been.

Because he and Mr. Sawyer were indeed now the same person.

He could still see that little boy in Houston coming down the stairs. Had Mr. Sawyer seen him too, so many years ago? Did he know that Mary Ford had an eight year old son? Did he ruin her life anyway?

Meanwhile, how many lives had _he_ ruined in his years of grifting? What kind of damage had _he_ left in his wake?

He hated Sawyer, but he hated himself more. Sawyer might have had some excuse, some ignorance of the real damage he was doing. But James Ford knew better.

When Jack punched him in the mouth at the caves, he wasn't surprised. In fact, he welcomed it as a reassurance that he wasn't the only angry one. He wasn't the only man on that damned rock who hated himself. He could see that same self-loathing in Jack's eyes.

When Sayid had woken him up with the end of a pipe, he'd seen that same deep anger in his black eyes as well.

Hell, they were all pissed off. Pissed at their situation, pissed at themselves, pissed at each other.

At least torturing him was an activity they could all get something out of, Sawyer decided.

Yeah, it needed to be that way. It needed to be that way for all of them.

- 0 –

He had no idea how long they'd been at it. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. All he knew was that his throat was raw with screaming in pain and that his fingertips felt like they'd been cut off.

He had to give it to the Arab. He was a professional. And Sawyer had some experience with professionals before.

But in all his previous experience at being roughed up by bad guys, they'd all eventually stopped because he had some value to them. Sure, they needed to make certain he got the message – whatever it was – but in the end he was still an investment of theirs and would make them no money dead or permanently disfigured.

However, as Sayid's knife point pressed hard and cold against his cheek, he considered the fact that he didn't have any value to these people. If the Iraqi torturer slit his throat and left him hanging dead from that tree, everybody would benefit from having one fewer mouth to feed – plus they'd all get to split his stash.

But maybe there was one person who gave a damn whether he lived or died. One person who had secrets just as deep and dark as his own.

"The only person I'll tell is her," he heard himself say.

He was glad when she walked up. He was even happier to see the look of horror and concern in her eyes as she looked at him.

He asked for his kiss again, fully expecting her to turn him down. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had.

But she'd done it. She'd kissed him. For just that short moment, he felt like somebody cared about him. Somebody loved him. If his hands hadn't been tied behind a tree, he'd have clung to her like a lost child.

The illusion was shattered when he finally confessed that he didn't have that girl's medicine. Never did.

He could taste blood where her knuckles had contacted his lip. He probably deserved that.

But he wasn't prepared to go round two with the secret police either. They had the truth from him. That would have to be enough. So when Sayid went after him that time, he fought back.

When the final blow was struck, Sawyer couldn't help but notice the look on Sayid's face as he stood back and watched him writhe on the ground in agony. For a man who'd just been shoving bamboo under his fingernails, the Iraqi looked pretty guilt-stricken over having pinned him to the ground with a knife.

God, it hurt so bad. When the doc actually dug into the flesh to pinch off the spurting artery, the pain was worse than the bamboo. The bamboo had been sharp, bright, and excruciating as it pierced into him. But there was something understandable about it and he could scream against it and cope somehow.

However, the way it felt when Jack pulled the vein out of his arm was past painful. It was sickening. It took all he had not to throw up right then.

"Keep still, damn it," Jack yelled at him. But he couldn't help but try to get away from that feeling. All the time Sayid was running back for Jack's supplies, Sawyer couldn't help trying to work free of Jack's hold on him.

He didn't want to be indebted to Jack. Not after what he and Sayid had done to him. And he wasn't even vindicated in Kate's eyes. He looked up at her again and there it was. Pity.

"Let go," he whispered harshly. "I know you want to."

"Shut up. And stop moving," Jack instructed, shifting his knee even more firmly onto Sawyer's chest in an effort to hold him still.

But Sawyer couldn't be still. He couldn't stand it anymore. He just wanted to be free. He didn't want Jack to fix him. He just wanted him to let go.

"You've been waiting for this, haven't you?" Sawyer asked, his voice thick with pain. "Now you get to be the hero again, because that's what you do - fix everything up all nice." But Sawyer knew he couldn't be fixed – not by the island's resident miracle worker, not by anything.

He tried Kate then. "Tell him to let go, Freckles. We already made out, what else I got to live for?" But her eyes still held that same pity. He closed his eyes for a moment as another wash of sick misery ran through him.

Then he played his trump card. "Hey, Jack, there's something you should know - if the tables were turned, I'd watch you die."

Maybe that had been enough to weaken the doctor's resolve. Maybe his fingers had just gotten tired.

All Sawyer knew was that the artery slipped through his fingers and began to spray blood once more with every heartbeat.

He watched the fountain of red life as it showered around him. He watched as the droplets sprayed into Jack's face as he desperately tried to get a new grip on the slippery tissues.

Kate's voice came to him then as if from a great distance. "Oh, my God, Jack! He's going to bleed to death!"

"I know, I know! I need my pack. Sayid!" he called out. But there was no answer.

Everything started to go dark then and Sawyer felt himself begin to drift. The pain faded away as his awareness began to slip.

"Hang on, Sawyer!" Jack yelled into his face. "Damn it, you hang in there, you son of a bitch! Don't you die on me!"

Sawyer could feel it coming then. He could see death coming with its big black eyes.

"Hell, yeah. Come and get me," he tried to say, but the words only came out as a whisper with his last conscious breath.

- 0 –

"You're lucky to be alive," Kate said to him when consciousness finally returned.

He didn't feel lucky. Why hadn't Jack let go? Why couldn't he let himself lose just this once?

"Jack?" he asked. Damn it, he wasn't done yet. He still had plenty to say to the good doctor.

Of course he'd gone back to tend to the rest of his flock. He closed his eyes to rest, but Kate had other things on her mind. She began to tell him just what she'd figured out about the letter and its bicentennial envelope, and he listened helplessly as his carefully built cover fell apart. She knew.

"Kate," he tried to stop her. He tried to keep her from making that last connection.

Then she said it out loud. "This letter wasn't written to you. You wrote this letter. Your name's not Sawyer is it?"

So he told her his story. He let her in on one of the biggest secrets of his life. He showed her a piece of his true self that almost no one else in the entire world had ever seen before.

Then he looked back at her.

He didn't know just what he expected to see. But what he saw made him sick to his stomach.

He'd seen that same look on every face at his parents' funeral. He'd seen it again at his Uncle Doug's.

"Don't you feel sorry for me," he growled. Then he snatched the letter back out of her hands. "Get the hell out! Get out!"

After she left, he lay there, shaking with anger.

He didn't need her pity. He didn't need her. He didn't need anybody.

Damn it. Why hadn't Jack just let him die?


	6. Chapter 6 Lies, Lies, Lies, Yeah!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: You know, we've been told Sawyer is a Class-A conman, but did we ever see it? The show never showed him tell a convincing lie or run a convincing con on the island until he got the guns in Season 2. Or were we missing something all along? What if all that Sawyer as comic relief was actually a cleverly constructed image he put together in order to fool all of us? Hmmmm. **

Chapter 6 - Lies, Lies, Lies, Yeah!

"_You are the best liar I ever met."_ - UnLocke, _Recon_, Season 6

"I wonder how long Sayid's going to be gone?" one of the girls asked over what passed for breakfast these days.

"I wish he hadn't left," said her friend – what was her name? Nicole? Nina? – whatever. All that mattered was that the both of them gave him long, cool looks as he finally approached the makeshift table. Without a word to him, they walked away.

Fine. Good riddance.

He reached out for a piece of fruit and a bottle of water, but an unexpected wave of dizziness ran over him and he had to grab onto the edge for support. Had to be the blood loss, he decided.

Then he winced as a sharp jab of pain ran through his bicep and down his arm. He just hoped that the sewing thread stitches in his artery didn't burst from the strain or get infected.

"You okay?" came a voice from behind him. He turned, aware that his forehead was now dotted with little beads of sweat from trying to fight off the urge to vomit with the weakness and pain.

It was Rose again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he lied.

"Well, you look like you need to lie down." But before he could begin to be glad that somebody on that miserable piece of dirt was actually concerned about him, she added, "Can't have Jack running back down here to see about you every ten minutes. Go get some rest."

"Whatever," he responded, but his sarcasm was heavily undercut by the weakness in his voice. Somehow he managed to get back to his tent and lie down. He figured he'd just stay out of the way for a while. After all, they couldn't have Jack wearing himself out running back to check on the man he helped torture.

- 0 –

His book was bothering him.

It had seemed like just a piece of fluffy reading when he started it. It was about rabbits, for God's sake. How serious could it be?

But it was bothering him.

He was trying not to care about a bunch of rabbits all searching for a quiet place they could live in peace and safety. But he couldn't help it. It was a really good book.

The rabbits fought between themselves over who was going to be the leader and kept getting attacked by other rabbits. But despite the infighting and the danger, they depended on each other and defended each other. They became family.

The book bothered him.

"Hey, everybody, you'll never guess what Hurley made up at the caves!" Word of the golf course – a golf course of all things – spread down the beach like wildfire.

"So you coming?" one of the guys – Scott? Steve? – asked him as the rest headed off.

"No, thanks. I got no desire to play Mystery Island Putt-Putt," he lied. The guy just shrugged and walked off, leaving Sawyer alone on the beach. The entire time they were gone he couldn't quit wondering just how they'd set up the course.

- 0 –

Sawyer took a deep breath as Hurley provided commentary. "If Sawyer sinks this putt, he wins a pair of sunglasses and a bottle of Old Spice," the big guy announced in a loud whisper.

"I've got a deck of cards says he chokes," Jack added loudly.

"I'll take that," says Michael from the side.

"Shut up, you guys," Sawyer snapped. "You're screwing with my concentration."

"What's the matter, Sawyer? Desperate for some cologne?" Jack laughed.

"Yeah," Sawyer lied. "Got a hot date tonight." Then he paused long enough to give Kate a wink before sinking the putt deftly.

He was less than thrilled to find out that the sunglasses he'd won were of the pink Barbie variety, but the Old Spice actually smelled okay.

- 0 –

Things were getting downright weird, Sawyer decided. First Sayid comes back after a close encounter of the poetic justice kind with that deranged French chick and then Claire gets snatched by somebody else entirely.

Not to mention the fact that Charlie was still walking around like a zombie with vicious looking rope burns around his neck from where he was nearly strangled by this Ethan character.

He'd known this place wasn't Gilligan's Island from practically day one. After all, they'd picked up a powered distress signal and he'd shot a polar bear all in one afternoon. Not to mention Kate's story of the monster that ate the pilot.

But now there was proof positive that they weren't alone on that rock.

Locke and Boone could keep pretending to hunt all they wanted, but it was pretty obvious to Sawyer that whoever took Claire had the advantage.

However, all that changed the minute he'd managed to pick the lock of that damned Halliburton case he and Kate had found while skinny-dipping. Well, skinny-dipping was how he replayed it in his imagination.

It had taken him all morning in his tent to do it, but he'd finally popped that bitch to reveal a nice stash of 9 millimeters and a supply of ammunition. There was an envelope too, marked "Personal Effects," and though his curiosity was killing him to open it, he knew it was only a matter of time before Kate or Jack managed to get the case back. He didn't need to leave any evidence that he'd been there first.

So he left the envelope sealed and contented himself with reloading the pistol that the marshal had been carrying in his ankle holster, leaving the other four locked back in the case.

From then, it had just been a matter of keeping everybody else convinced that the case had beaten him. If Jack had any idea that he was armed and dangerous, he'd be all over him with that unrelenting "greater good" mentality.

But what Jack failed to see was that somebody had to go looking for Claire. Locke and Boone certainly weren't doing it. He had no idea what they'd been digging up out there in the jungle, but he knew they weren't hunting their missing mother-to-be and they weren't hunting boar.

Sayid was still limping around and working on decoding the papers he'd stolen from nutty Marie Antoinette.

Kate was their best hope at actually finding the girl, but she was unpredictable at best. However, he considered as he rubbed his bruised knee, she was pretty good with a rock. And a head butt. It had been pretty painful to keep her at bay.

Yeah, if he had to go hunting anything else, he decided, he wanted Kate as backup.

That afternoon, he cursed as he hauled the case up to the top of a cliff, knowing she had to be watching. She hadn't left the beach since they brought the damned thing back and had kept him in her sights the whole time. Michael and Hurley had gotten a good laugh from his public attempts to pick the lock and he knew Kate had watched him try the big rock. Who knew where the axe had gone.

Now it was time for the real test. Would she go for it? "Impact velocity – physics my ass. Alright," he muttered as tossed it over the side.

Sure enough, she ran up and grabbed it. She was so easy to catch, he had to wonder if she'd let him do it. All the same, he enjoyed the hell out of jumping her in the grass. Then he wondered if maybe she'd confide in him.

"Okay, this is just silly. Hold on. I've got a proposition for you. You tell me what's inside and I'll give it to you," he offered.

"Are you serious?" she asked.

"Hell, no way to open the damn thing," he lied. "At this point all I care about is satisfying my own curiosity."

But she wouldn't take him up on it. When she sent Jack after it a while later, he had to admit being disappointed that she'd once again chosen Jack over him. He watched her over the fire later, turning a little toy airplane over and over in her fingers with that sad look on her face.

Jack never even stopped. He just walked past her with that closed-off expression he did so well.

Shannon's voice drifted through the air singing "La Mer" with Sayid at her side. Charlie sat beside Rose – Sawyer hoped maybe she'd be able to bring him back to the land of the living.

Sawyer couldn't help but feel sorry for Kate. She should have stuck with him, he decided. He didn't know what that little airplane meant to her, but by God, he wouldn't have left her to stew by herself.

One outcast to another, he'd have listened.

- 0 –

Now that he was armed, he felt a good bit better about heading out into the jungle to look for Claire. The first thing he needed was clues and when Kate showed up with Claire's luggage in tow, he knew the best way to find out what Claire knew was to see what she'd been writing in that diary of hers.

Charlie had already told everybody who would listen that she'd been having dreams and raving about people trying to hurt her. Maybe she wasn't as crazy as Jack had thought.

Sawyer slipped the journal out of her bags, replacing it with a hairbrush he'd turned up on one of his scavenging runs. If she ever came back, the brush would make a nice peace offering for invading her privacy.

He skipped over hunks, having no interest at all in how she thought Charlie was cute. He did stop at his name once or twice and was amused to find that she thought he was "sexy but irritating." Oh well, he'd have to try to be less irritating, he guessed.

There were some odd references to a black rock and whispers in the jungle, but nothing he could really use as a jumping off place.

So he started where Jack and Kate had found Charlie, figuring that Ethan had to be taking her that direction at least.

Days of searching later, he still hadn't found any signs of anyone on that damned island but themselves.

He had, however, come across the cockpit of the airplane. Jack had said it was leaning nearly straight up and down into a tree when they found it, but now it had fallen to the jungle floor.

The cockpit windshield was broken and bloody. At least part of their story had to be true. Sawyer kept the pistol within easy reach the entire time he explored the cabin.

It smelled to high heaven with the stench of decomposition, and he could see clear evidence that the boars had been carrying the bodies off for dinner. He felt a stab of guilt that they'd not taken care of these people already. It wasn't right that they should have been left to the elements and wild animals.

All the same, he managed to salvage some items from the overheads and storage compartments. Mike had begun to make noises about building a raft. Nobody had thought to salvage the wiring and cable from the fuselage before it was burned, then lost to the sea with the rising tide.

So, he began stripping the cockpit cabin of every inch of usable wire. If Mike was going to be tying bamboo together, he was going to need anything he could use as rope and lots of it.

He gathered all the wiring he could carry and made his way back toward camp, carefully stashing his rope in the meantime. No need to let the world know what he had. Besides he didn't need anybody else along for the trip. He felt sure the rest of that bunch would not understand why he hadn't turned in the gun to the only man on the island who wouldn't use it.

With every passing day that Claire stayed missing, her rockstar boyfriend was getting more and more deranged as well. If he knew Sawyer was actually looking for her, he'd demand to go along. Quite frankly, Sawyer didn't need his company or his help. The guy would more likely get himself captured again and probably killed this time. He wasn't in any state of mind to go Claire-hunting and didn't have the skills Sawyer had – and he had to admit, his hunting skills were minimal.

However, his gun-handling skills were more than adequate to blow a hole in the asshole who'd taken her.

When Chuck and Kate had come hunting the diary at last, Sawyer made damned certain that the British vigilante would stay as far away from him as possible.

""Dear Diary, I'm getting really freaked out by that has-been pop star. I think he's stalking me," he taunted.

Kate tried to call him off but Sawyer knew he had to make it good. "Diary, the little limey runt just won't let up."

He didn't figure Charlie had it in him to actually hit him, and when he did punch him in his injured arm, it really hurt. It hurt enough that the punch he threw in response wasn't pulled nearly as much as he intended it to be.

Charlie fell back, but had the temerity to add, "You hit like a ponce."

"Oh, yeah?" Sawyer's arm ached badly from the blow and he took a step in Charlie's direction, his anger only partially feigned.

Kate interposed herself between them. "You didn't really read it, did you?" she asked to his amusement.

"I just hadn't gotten around to it yet," he lied.

- 0 –

The last few days had been a real bitch. First, Claire had wandered back into camp, stoned out of her mind in his opinion. He couldn't believe Jack didn't issue out the weaponry immediately. It had been hard to keep his concealed weapon concealed, but he tried to hang close enough to her to protect her if needed. Unfortunately, protection had been needed for more than Claire.

Because second, that psychopath Ethan had killed Scott right on the beach – he knew it was Scott this time damn it because Scott had been keeping watch on the north side of camp while he'd had the south side. But he'd kept up his cover anyway by pretending he didn't know his name. Hell, he'd truly mixed them up enough times that it wasn't hard.

It was better that everybody kept thinking he was unwelcome and expendable. That way he'd have an easier time getting on that raft. And he was definitely getting on that raft.

Then third, once Charlie had found an unexpectedly large pair of balls and filled Ethan full of lead, his troubles had continued when that damned boar had torn up his stuff. Twice. At least he'd been able to carry his certifiably Jack-approved pistol openly to hunt for it.

Thinking back over that little hunting expedition, he'd enjoyed getting a chance to be with Kate and find out a little more about their resident fugitive. Apparently she was on the run for murder. That was unexpected. She didn't seem like the murdering kind, especially when she went out of her way to defend piglets. She'd called him sick. He wasn't sick. He wouldn't have hurt it. Much.

But to cap off the week of nonstop action, now his head was killing him.

He tried to put his tarp back on his tent, but the smell and the holes were just too much. "Damn it," he muttered. Then he headed out into the bush to his other stash to retrieve the tarp he'd found in the airplane cockpit a few days earlier.

As he walked through the jungle, he listened for the whispers he'd heard previously. But all was silent. He even listened for the sound of piglets squealing in the underbrush, but all he heard was the wind in the leaves.

This damned place wasn't right, he decided. It was haunted or something. He'd heard Frank Duckett's voice just as clearly as if he were standing next to him. And Locke's story about the dog had weirded him out. That damned boar was Frank Duckett come back to torment him, he was convinced.

Then what did it all mean? Was he forgiven somehow when he let the boar go?

Or was it still going to come back around for him?

Worse, the dreams hadn't stopped. Every night since the crash he relived his parents' death. Every night he shot Frank Duckett dead in a parking lot. Every night, he was back in Tampa. Every night, he looked down at the photo of a baby with dimples in her cheeks.

Meanwhile, every afternoon, the pain would start just behind his eyes, as if his head were being squeezed in a vise. He'd started keeping his scavenged painkillers in his tent instead of hidden in his stash, but he didn't have much, only a few mini-bottles of over the counter items, nothing good.

At first, a couple of aspirin had helped, but as the days passed, the headaches grew worse and the medicine did less to ease the pain.

He began to think about his Uncle Doug as he walked back to camp. He'd gotten so sick right at the end, so thin and weak. He looked like a cadaver weeks before he'd actually died. Plus, he'd hurt so badly that morphine hadn't even been able to keep him comfortable. The only choice was to drug him so heavily that he slept all the time. His last days had been spent in a drug-induced coma.

What if his headaches were caused by the same thing? What if he were dying too? Was that how it was going to come back around?

Somehow he pulled the tarp into place, then sat on the low bed in his tent and turned the pistol over in his hands. When everyone else had given back their guns after the great Ethan massacre, he'd kept his.

Sawyer was not a self-destructive person by nature, preferring to survive and thrive despite the challenges thrown his way. But as he held the weapon in his hand, he took comfort from the solidity of the metal and the neat way the grip fit into his palm.

The marshal had been in such agony that he begged him for release. As the pain lanced through his temples and down his neck, he considered his options. If the raft didn't work. If the pain got to be unbearable. If he knew it was coming anyway.

There wasn't any morphine on that island for him.

He'd looked death in its big black eyes three times in the past few weeks. If he had to, he could face it down again and do what had to be done.

"Hey," came a voice from outside what passed for his door and he pushed the gun behind him.

He looked up to see Claire standing there, the sunlight gleaming through her blonde hair. She looked downright angelic in the light.

She held a hairbrush in her hand. "Do I have you to thank for this?" she asked.

He gave her one of the most charming of his charming smiles. "How did you guess?"

"Well, Nikki said I'd been searching for a brush ever since we crashed. She also figured you would be the only person who had one," Claire explained. "So why did you put it in my bag?"

He'd put it in her bag as a sort of peace offering for having read her diary. But she didn't need to know that. "I just thought you might like it, seeing as how you've had a rough couple of weeks," he lied. "You ever remember anything?"

A shadow crossed her face then. "Just bits and pieces," she replied. "I've been reading my journal trying to jog my memory. A few things are beginning to come together."

"Anything about me in that journal of yours?" he asked in a teasing voice, knowing full well the answer.

"Nothing you'd want to hear," she teased in return. "Thanks for the brush, Sawyer." She turned to go, but then stopped suddenly, her hand going reflexively to her belly.

"You okay?" He didn't even want to ask for fear that the question would start her doing something he absolutely did not want to be present for.

"Come here." Her voice held a hushed excitement. He cautiously rose to his knees and moved a little closer to her. She took a step toward him and reached out to grab his hand.

"Feel that?" she asked as she pressed his hand into her side. "He's been so sleepy all afternoon. Ever since I got back I've been afraid that the baby isn't doing well. I get so scared when he stops moving."

Sawyer was beyond uncomfortable with his hand being pressed against her rounded stomach. This was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Then he felt the baby move beneath his fingers.

It was the single freakiest thing that had ever happened to him. He wanted to pull away from her with every fiber in his being, but she held his hand tight against her, that beatific smile on her face.

It moved again, pushing back against him with a strength and a solidity he didn't expect. She gasped a little.

"Does it hurt?" he asked her in a whisper.

"Sometimes. When he gets his foot up in my ribs especially," she replied with a laugh. "Isn't it wonderful? It's like hope and the future all right there inside me, waiting to be born."

He knelt there beside her as that new life made itself known to him. Despite the crash and the near starvation and the kidnapping and the uncertainty, this little baby was still hanging in there, waiting to be born.

After a few more seconds, she let go of his hand. "I think he's settled down again." Her voice sounded a little self-conscious, as if she suddenly realized she'd been holding him captive.

He sat back away from her, his hand falling to his side. "I guess so."

"Well, anyway, thanks for the brush."

"No problem."

She gave him a little half-wave goodbye, then pushed through the folds of the doorway.

He sat back down on the low bed, aware after a moment that his head had stopped hurting.

When his hand came into contact with the pistol, it no longer felt quite as comforting in his grip. So he stuck it in his waistband and went to find Jack.

**(Author's Note: So what about it? There is so little about Sawyer in the episodes between **_**Confidence Man**_** and **_**Outlaws**_** and honestly, **_**Outlaws**_** is much more about revealing the whole Frank Duckett business than about anything Sawyer is doing on the island. **

**And there's even less to explain just why he wants to be on the raft so badly. I for one refuse to see the whole headache business as comic relief. Gotta go there next. **

**And what about Tampa? **_**Adrift**_** was originally supposed to be about the Tampa Job in the flashbacks, but that got canned in favor of a Michael/Walt flashback. Well, I'm going to uncan it and tell you just what I think happened and how it figures into everything. Let me know how you like this.)**


	7. Chapter 7 My Heart Belongs to Daddy

Chapter 7 My Heart Belongs to Daddy

The sun shone bright out the window. It danced across the windshields of the cars in the parking lot and if Sawyer squinted and peeped hard enough between the low office buildings and warehouses, he could see the vaguest glimmers of sunshine sparkling off the waves of Tampa Bay.

Inside his cubicle, however, it was dark and oppressive. Hibbs and Kilo hadn't spent any money on making the place fit to work in. They had put all their investment in the computers and phone systems that linked the twelve or so people in the room to marks and their bank accounts all across the country.

Right then, Sawyer was working a list of potentials throughout the South. He rolled his shoulders and stretched for a few minutes before keying up the next magazine subscriber on his headset phone. He hated telemarketing and he hated grift telemarketing even worse.

But he still owed Kilo twelve thousand from that aborted Houston con, so he was stuck there. Maybe he'd cherry-pick a couple of real ripe ones and finish today, he thought.

With a sigh, he clicked Dial.

"Hello, may I please speak with Mr. Webster?" he asked in his best phone voice at the hello on the other end.

"He's not able to come to the phone," an elderly woman replied. "He's had a stroke."

"Oh, I am sorry to hear that," Sawyer intoned, but he wasn't sorry at all. That kind of situation made for ripe picking at times. Then he continued, "Is this his wife? Are you authorized to conduct business on his behalf?"

"What kind of business?" her voice was suspicious.

"Business of a financial nature. Mr. Webster was selected by the Barnes-Freeman Publishing Group as the winner of their annual subscriber sweepstakes giveaway," Sawyer stated. "Let me be sure I've got the right Mr. Robert Webster, ma'am. I wouldn't want to get your hopes up for nothing. Does Mr. Webster live at 1099 Oak Street in Napierville, Alabama?"

"Why, yes," she answered, her hopes clearly beginning to rise in her voice.

"Does he subscribe to Popular Mechanics, Readers Digest, Popular Science, or Fishing World?" Sawyer asked, cleverly imbedding the mark's subscription in the middle, far enough along to build anticipation but not right at the end to deter suspicion.

"Yes, he does, Popular Science and Fishing World both," the woman replied.

Even better with a second random hit. Then he began to explain to her the amount of money Mr. Webster had won and that the group could either wire the money to them directly or mail them a certified check. He encouraged her to take the check because it was never a good idea to give her bank account information to anyone she wasn't completely confident in.

Then he pulled up the list of neighbors in their database and selected an older neighbor a few doors down.

"I think I've been to Napierville," he inserted amicably into the conversation. "Do you know an Edward Morris? He was a friend of my daddy's."

"Ed Morris? He lives down the road from us," she said with a laugh. He always paid careful attention to their tone of voice at the neighbor ploy. A negative tone meant drop it and go a different direction, but a positive one – now that was a gift.

"I can't remember how my daddy knew him. Was Mr. Ed in the military?" He tossed out the bait and began to fish.

"I believe he was in the Navy." She took the bait.

"That had to be it. He and my daddy served together. We went to visit Mr. Ed some time ago." He began to reel. "I might have driven right past your house!"

"I bet you did! Now what was your name again? I'll tell Ed we talked. He'll be so excited to hear from you and to hear about this money we've won!" The hook was set. All he had to do then was let her talk him into wiring the money. He typed in her bank account number and before he knew it, another $2,567.32 was transferred into Kilo's offshore account as he emptied the retiree's savings.

That left him less than ten thousand before he was free. He made nice a few more seconds with Mrs. Webster, then hung up the phone.

Next.

- 0 –

"Hey, boss!" Sawyer shouted at Michael, barely able to stand the sound of his own voice over the pounding in his head. "You gonna need any more of this wire?"

Michael gave the lengths of bamboo a measuring look in the fading light. "No, that'll be plenty for today." He and Jin took a moment to discuss the day's work, Michael pointing and speaking in English, Jin pointing and speaking in Korean. Somehow they actually understood each other. It was enough to make Sawyer's head ache – except that it was already killing him.

He rubbed at his temples for a few minutes trying to ease the pain as he walked off toward his tent on the beach.

Raft Number Two was coming along pretty well, in his opinion. Mike had made the rest of that crew believers the first time – Sawyer included. He'd actually begun to believe they could do it. They could sail that thing off the island and back to civilization.

And when it had burned, he'd been furious.

Maybe kicking Jin's ass wasn't the best idea he ever had, but damn it, that raft had been his best chance of getting off this rock.

He had to leave, too. Not only was the place making him crazy with the weird jungle whispers and strange dreams, he was seriously beginning to worry about the headaches he'd been having.

Nothing would touch them. No amount of ibuprofen or aspirin seemed to budge them these days. He'd try to relax, to find a nice quiet place to read for a while, but by mid-afternoon he'd be sick with the pain. Sunlight and heat and noise only made it worse.

He tried not to think about his uncle, but couldn't help it. He kept racking his brain for memories of how his uncle's headaches had begun. But all he could remember was feeling helpless and alone. Damn, he'd been just a kid – maybe fourteen?

How old had Doug been then? Forty? Way too young to die of brain cancer, that was for damned sure. And his daddy had been about his age now when he'd shot himself. It gave him a whole new sense of perspective to remember that.

He guessed it was just the fate of the men in his family to die young and leave their kids behind. That circle of thought always brought him back to Clementine.

He'd abandoned her. Just like his daddy had abandoned him. Just like his uncle had abandoned him.

If he died on that island, she'd never know how often he thought about her. She'd never know that he'd wished he'd done differently. She'd grow up thinking her daddy didn't care about her at all.

He knew what happened to little girls with daddy issues. As a teenager, he'd paid a number of them by the hour down on Lower Broad Street in Nashville. As a grown man, he'd stuck dollar bills down the g-strings of others in numerous titty bars across the country.

Shit, he had daddy issues himself. He didn't want to dump all that on his little girl.

But if he died on that island, that's what would happen. It wasn't like her mother would tell her any different. The last thing he'd told Cassidy was that he didn't have a daughter. Clementine didn't need to know he'd said that.

Maybe it was the dreams of holding her baby picture in his hand. Maybe it was the repeated brushes with death. Maybe it was reliving his own childhood night after night in glorious blood-drenched Technicolor.

All he knew was that he didn't want her to think she didn't matter to him. He didn't want her to feel like he abandoned her, too.

- 0 –

Three hangups later, he hit paydirt. This young woman was so elated by the idea of winning $50,000 that she started giving him the deposit information before he could even ask for it.

"Oh, my God," she kept repeating. "I can't believe this! Please, put it in this account. The name is . . ." she sobbed.

His heart stopped for a second when she said the name. "Did you say Clementine Phillips?" he asked in disbelief.

"Claudia Phelps," she repeated. Then she gave him the account number.

When he pulled it up, he was astonished to see that there was over $30,000 in the account.

"The account is in my little girl's name," the woman continued. "She's sick. She's got cancer. We've been getting donations from everybody to help pay for the treatments."

He froze, his eyes fixed on the numbers before him as she continued to talk.

"She's only eight months old. She's my baby," the tears in the woman's voice made her sound like she was underwater. "I can't lose her." She gave a deep sigh and cleared her throat. "Thank you so much. This is like a gift from God right now."

He looked around the room to see if anyone was listening to him before he spoke again. "Lady, listen to me. This is a scam. Do not ever give that account number over the phone like that. Never, do you hear me?"

"What?" she sounded shocked and he knew he was growling at her but he had to make her understand.

"It's a scam. You didn't win anything. Move that money to a new account and don't give the number out. People can donate using her name only. Don't fall for this again," he commanded, then hung up the phone. He took a few minutes to delete the woman's information and the account history for baby Claudia Phelps.

"What was that all about?" asked Hibbs from behind his back.

"Got an irate one, threatening to call the law," Sawyer explained nonchalantly as he swiveled around in his half broken desk chair to face his employer.

"Stay cool," Hibbs instructed. "You've got nothing to worry about. Kilo's got us all well covered down here."

"Whatever," Sawyer replied blandly.

A loud BAM echoed through the room and the door behind him burst into splinters as a team of narcs swarmed inside. "Police! Everybody on the floor!" came the calls.

Sawyer complied, giving Hibbs a cold look. "Well covered, my ass," he whispered. "You owe me big time, Hibbs."

"Shut up!" snarled a nearby cop as he bent down to cuff him.

"Whatever you say, boss," Sawyer replied evenly.

- 0 –

Maybe Kate did have his best interests at heart, he thought to himself as he put on his new glasses. The words sprung into focus before him with a clarity he hadn't realized was missing until he found it.

The headaches had certainly eased after he'd had his optical prescription filled – island style. But they hadn't gone away entirely.

He still had nightmares every night as well. Now he kept dreaming that Clementine had cancer. In his dream, she was on the island with him and he carried her around in his arms, asking everybody for donations to help pay for her treatments.

Then she'd start to cry this pitiful heartbreaking cry of pain and loneliness and there wasn't anything he could do to help her.

He'd wake up in a cold sweat and hear Claire's baby crying. The sound was awful. It wasn't overly loud, but it trembled like the whimper of a newborn puppy. He'd helped his uncle raise a litter of hounds once and every time the mama left the kennel, those puppies would sob for her like she wasn't coming back.

Now this little baby made that same cry.

The day after he'd been born, Sawyer had been able to comfort him by reading to him. Unfortunately, that hadn't worked again no matter how hard he'd tried.

In the middle of the night he lay there and listened to that pitiful, tremulous sound. After a few minutes the baby was either changed or being fed and settled back into quiet again.

Sawyer closed his eyes and before long he was dreaming again too. This time, he held his daughter in his arms and took her to see his mother. His mother wanted to hold her but she had blood all over the front of her shirt and he didn't want it to get on Clementine.

Then he looked down and saw that he had blood all over his shirt too.

They stood on the beach then in the smoke from the crash as the engines whined around them. His baby started to cry at the sound. People ran past them, screaming and coughing.

"I'll take her," said a calm voice beside him. Ethan stood at the treeline, his hands held out toward the baby, a kindly smile on his face. But there was blood on his shirt as well.

Sawyer held the baby closer to his chest, but she kept crying. He tried to tell her all about V8 engines and the virtues of the Mustang over the Camaro, but she wouldn't stop. She knew he'd abandoned her. She knew he was never coming back to her.

The airplane exploded, sending shrapnel into the air and knocking him to his back, Clementine flying out of his arms.

When he landed on the ground, he woke up in a panic.

Where was she? Where was the baby?

Then he remembered where he was and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

He had to get off that damned island. He had to get away from there before he went completely insane.

Maybe the raft would work. Maybe Mike would be able to get his kid rescued. Maybe Jin would be able to get back to a place where his wife wasn't planning to leave him. Maybe he'd get to see Clementine and tell her he wasn't going to abandon her.

Then again, maybe they'd all die out there on the ocean.

But by God, he wasn't going to die on that damned island. He was getting off and nothing was going to stop him.


	8. Chapter 8 What You Lose in the Fire

**(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy New Year! I have big news too! My first novel, The Blacksmith's Daughter, has been nominated for best YA Novel at the Preditors and Editors Readers' Poll! Please take a moment and go vote for me! It can be found at www dot critters dot org/predpoll. Scroll down and select YA Novels. Then select The Blacksmith's Daughter, put in your name and email and vote. I had to refresh the page once to get it to load up right. You also have to scroll down a little to get to the list of books. But I would so appreciate your taking time to vote for me! Meanwhile, enjoy this next bit and thanks so much for the reviewers who are letting me know they are out there. I can't go on without you guys!)**

Chapter Eight – What You Lose in the Fire

Jimmy backed out of the house with the TV held precariously in front of him. He pushed through the screen door, careful to make sure it didn't slam shut, alerting the neighbors of his presence.

He certainly did not expect to hear Mama Chère's voice behind him. "Jimbo, what are you doing with my television?" she hollered.

Jimmy nearly dropped the TV, so surprised he was by her sudden appearance. Mama Chère stormed up the gravel driveway of the little house, her open-backed houseshoes furiously slapping against her feet.

"I asked you a question, Jimbo. What are you doing with my television set?" she fixed a watery gaze on his face.

Mama Chère was a short woman and nearly as round as she was tall, but Jimmy couldn't help but back away from her fury.

He tried to stammer an answer, but he knew she would call him on any lie he tried to tell. He might have learned to lie to most people, but Mama Chère was different. When he'd shown up in New Orleans a year ago without a friend in the world or a penny to his name, Mama Chère had taken him in. She'd given him a job and a place to crash in the back room of her Creole restaurant.

"James Alan Ford, you in trouble again?" she asked him sternly. "Who you owe this time?"

"Gerard Duval," he admitted sheepishly. "I owe him a hundred dollars, Mama. A hundred dollars I ain't got."

"So you gonna steal from me, boy?"

He couldn't answer. The evidence was in his arms.

"Take my TV set back into my house," she instructed firmly, pointing his way to the door in case he didn't know how to find it.

He eased the screen door open with his fingertips and pushed through it with his shoulder, then carried the TV back inside and replaced it on the stand. He plugged it back into the wall and set the rabbit ear antenna on top, wiring the leads back onto the connectors.

"You finished?" she asked him.

"Yes, ma'am," he answered, heading back to the door.

"Then get out of my house, boy. You get outta my house and my restaurant. I don't deal with nobody who'll steal from me," she fixed him again with that hard stare.

Jimmy looked around the little kitchen where he'd eaten many a bowl of gumbo and many a saucer of peach cobbler. "Mama Chère, I'm sorry. I just didn't know what to do," he explained.

"You ask, Jimbo. You ask somebody to help you. You ask somebody to keep you straight and keep you out of the path of folks like Gerard Duval." Her voice was firm but not loud as she lectured him.

Then she walked over to the breadbox and pulled out a loaf of bread. He watched as she made four olive loaf sandwiches and wrapped them in wax paper. Then she sacked them up in a brown paper bag along with a slice of caramel cake from beneath the heavy glass dome of her cake plate.

"I figure you'll get hungry before you find someplace else to be," she sighed as she passed him the bag. "Now you go on," she instructed. "But you remember this, Jimbo. You better straighten yourself up and learn to treat people right. Otherwise, boy, you gonna die alone in this world without a soul to care a thing about you."

"Please, Mama Chère," he tried again to apologize.

"No, boy, we done here. All I got left for you is prayer. I ain't gonna let you take anything else of mine with you," she declared firmly.

Jimmy walked out her door and onto the wide planks of the porch, his eyes fixed on the cracks between the boards and the chips in the paint beneath his feet. Behind him, he heard the slam of the screen door.

At first he was filled with shame as he walked down the gravel drive and into the street. Then shame turned to anger.

Who did she think she was? She wasn't his mother. She didn't know him at all.

But her words rang in his ears. He was going to die alone.

Fine, then, he told himself. Some folks are meant to be alone. He tossed the sack into the nearest garbage can. He didn't need anything from her anyway. He didn't need anybody.

- 0 –

"Mike! Jin!" Sawyer called into the darkness over the roar of the flames as the raft burned. He heard Jin call back, but his voice grew distant.

Mike on the other hand called out desperately for his son, but his cries became strangled as he began to struggle in the water.

Despite the painful wound in his left shoulder, Sawyer swam as fast as he could toward the sound of Michael's voice, reaching him just as the man slipped beneath the waves.

He dragged him onto a piece of the raft and began to pound the life back into him. Only a few hours before, he'd been fighting with Mike, deliberately provoking him about how Walt ran all over him. He'd pushed Mike into shooting off that flare, and now that flare had cost Mike his kid and cost them the raft. Jin was probably dead out there somewhere in the darkness. Now Mike was dying.

Sawyer knew he was about to be left alone in the vast darkness of the empty ocean.

He pulled on every bit of first aid knowledge he could muster to begin resuscitation, chest compressions, rescue breathing. Finally Michael coughed up a lungful of water.

Nearly overcome with relief and exhaustion, Sawyer pulled him further onto the piece of floating debris, ignoring the sharp pains that shot down his arm as he tugged at the semiconscious man.

"Walt! Where's my son?" Mike repeated.

"I don't know," was all that Sawyer could reply.

- 0 –

That night, Sawyer fell into the first dreamless sleep he'd had since they crashed on that godforsaken island. Maybe it was because he was so damned sick of fighting with Michael. Maybe it was because he really did feel guilty. Maybe it was because so much of his blood was now floating on the surface of the ocean calling to more sharks.

All he knew was he dragged himself onto that pontoon and fell into a sleep more like unconsciousness than slumber.

When he heard the sounds of someone crying, a man crying, at first he thought he was dreaming. He wondered if maybe he was the one crying. But he opened his eyes to the glow of the morning sun, aware that they were dry and burned in the daylight. He sat up slowly, his head swimming with the effort. His shoulder felt like somebody had stuck a butcher knife in it and twisted.

Mike was crying there in front of him, big heaving sobs.

"You alright, Mike?" he asked.

Michael started talking about Walt and how he shouldn't have brought him along, but Sawyer's eyes had found something on the horizon. Green trees. A beach. Mountains and jungle.

Home.

It actually felt like he was coming home. The thought chilled him.

- 0 –

He sat in the darkness of the covered pit, alone. Rambina and the A-Team up there had taken Jin and Michael, but he'd be damned if he was going to just crawl out of there without knowing who they were or what they wanted.

He'd believed the girl's story up front about being on the plane, mostly because he remembered seeing her in the back on one of his trips to the bathroom. God knows, he'd drunk enough cups of coffee trying to stay awake on that damned flight.

He also could tell from the minute she'd taken the gun – he kicked himself again for letting her get the drop on him (damn, he was slipping) – that she was a cop. Cops held their weapons a certain way and she had police academy written all over her.

Furthermore, he had the feeling that she was one of those cops he hated. One of those who used their authority as an officer of the law to lord over everybody who got in their way. One of those bastards who slipped into their dark sunglasses and their bulletproof vests and proceeded to run over anybody who dared to question them. One of those "my way or the highway" kind of assholes.

He sat there in the darkness and felt his concentration begin to slip. The dirt began to look really interesting the longer he stared at it. His eyes burned and his shoulder had stopped just hurting and had started aching deep into the bone.

The sound of the cover being tossed back pulled him out of his daze and he squinted up at the sunlight as it flooded into his prison.

When they pulled him out, part of him was glad to be back with Michael and Jin. But once Ana Lucia had started in on her "what we've got here is a failure to communicate" kick, he was ready to go back into the pit again. He was pleased to know that he'd pegged her correctly – she was indeed that asshole kind of cop.

On the other hand, now that she'd managed to stomp on the bleeding hole in his shoulder twice, he could barely see for the pain. He wasn't kidding when he said he'd kill her if she hit him again. It might take him a little while to regroup now that the trees were beginning to fade in and out around him, but he'd bide his time, find his moment, and strangle her to death.

But first they had to find food, right? And water.

"The man knows how to fish. I'd take him with you," he told them. Jin was good with fish.

Whenever people talked to him, he tried to listen. He tried to answer. But he knew that some of his answers weren't coming out just like he meant for them to.

What was it that Mama Chère used to say? What you lose in the fire, you find in the ashes.

That old Creole saying kept eating at him. What you lose in the fire. They'd lost a lot in the fire. They'd lost the raft – twice. They'd lost Walt.

Now they'd lost Michael. He was gone.

Damn it. They should have pulled a prison break sooner. Then they could have all gone hunting for Walt. He and Jin and Mike could have found him and brought him back.

Sawyer regrouped his attention. "Mike ain't coming back without his kid," he tried to tell Jin. Mike was on his own now. That was how he wanted it. That was how it had to be. And Sawyer knew he had to look after himself because nobody else would.

- 0 –

What you lose in the fire.

He dreamed again. Now that he was back on that damned island, he was dreaming again. This time he was in Mama Chère's kitchen with a sack of sandwiches in his hand. "Here you go, Jimbo," she was saying as she passed him a tall glass of sweet tea. The ice clinked in it and beads of condensation ran down the sides onto his fingers as he lifted it to his lips to take a sip.

Then he woke up in the jungle, his face pressed against the rough bark of a tree. His mouth was dry and his eyes were burning out of his head. He heard Cindy and Ana talking about moving on, but he could see from Ana's expression that she didn't have the first idea what to do. So he called her on it.

But he knew they had to keep moving. He had to get somewhere that there was water and someplace soft to lie down. He could sure use a nice glass of iced tea too.

The fire had begun to burn in his shoulder and he could taste ashes on his tongue.

- 0 –

Mike had come back. He remembered saying something about that. He might have pissed Mike off come to think of it, but now they were all walking together. There were trees, then grass, then more trees, then more grass. Every step took effort. Every time they stopped it was harder to start moving again.

He stumbled and nearly fell, but that blonde woman, Libby, stopped to talk to him. She looked at his shoulder and he could see from the first look of apprehension in her eyes that it looked every bit as bad as it felt.

"It's bad, right?" he asked her and for the first time he really confronted the fact that he was in real trouble. He looked her right in the eyes and told the truth. He wasn't fine. He wasn't okay. He was headed downhill fast.

But she brushed it off. She placated him with some encouraging words and her professional opinion as a clinical psychologist that he was going to be just fine.

So much for honesty.

So he was fine. He was okay. He put one foot in front of the other. But half the time he wasn't in a jungle at all. Half the time he was walking through the woods in Tennessee with his uncle. Half the time he was strolling the streets of Nashville, following the Cumberland River. Half the time he was on Bourbon Street, heading off to work at Mama Chère's Restaurant LaFleur.

There had been a big fleur de lis on the door, he remembered. He'd bussed tables there for an entire summer and had slept in the back storeroom on a couch. Sometimes Mama Chère LaFleur would invite him to eat at her house on the nights the restaurant was closed. She wanted him to go back to school.

"I know some bad things done happened to you, Jimbo," she'd say. "But you gotta remember that what you lose in the fire, you find in the ashes."

His shoulder was on fire, his mouth tasted like ashes.

They stopped for water on a rocky outcropping. The heat from the sandstone beneath his feet rolled up into his face until he practically gasped for breath. But even as the heat beat at him, he began to feel cold. His fingertips and feet grew numb. Even his shoulder went from a sharp ache to a dull ache. It felt like his body was closing in on itself inside him.

He could hear Ana and Mr. Eko talking about him but he didn't give a shit what they had to say.

He was going to die out there. He could feel the fever rising in him like a wildfire. He was going to die alone just like Mama Chère had warned him so many years ago.

He was surrounded by people, but he was still going to die alone.

Wasn't that what Jack kept saying? Live together, die alone? Well, he was going to make the die alone part reality.

They kept walking, now with him leaning heavily on Jin. He couldn't think anymore. He couldn't feel his feet. The ground before him kept rolling and moving until he thought he was going to be sick.

Mike blamed him for Walt. He ought to. If he hadn't made Mike shoot off that flare, maybe that boat would have passed them by.

Then Mike and Walt and Jin would be safely on their way off that damned island. They could all be rescued. They could bring back a boat to pick up everybody else.

He thought he was doing the right thing but everything he did turned out wrong. Everything he touched died. Now he was going to die. The world kept slipping into double vision on him. Sometimes the edges faded into blackness and he felt like he was looking into a long tunnel.

Heat spread from his shoulder in sharp, painful tendrils up and down his arm and across his back and up into his head. His eyes burned and ached and his breath was ragged. His throat was dry and raw.

One foot in front of the other.

They would all be better off without him.

Nobody cared whether he lived or died anyway. That was how he wanted it. If nobody cared about him, then he didn't have to care about anybody else.

Finally, he fought free of the hands that tried to hold onto him. He shouted at the voices that surrounded him. Don't pretend to give a shit about me, he wanted to say.

But all that came out was his final shot at making them just let him go. "I would have left you behind," he whispered to Michael at the end.

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn't true. He knew that he'd pulled Michael out of the water and breathed life back into him. He hadn't let him die at all. He'd saved him. And Mike didn't even know it.

"Shut up, man. Don't try that," Mike called his bluff.

He didn't want to die alone. Not anymore. But he couldn't keep slowing them down. They had to let him go. He could make it on his own. He'd be fine. Somebody had to make the hard calls and he was the only one strong enough to do it.

"I did leave you behind." He tried again to push them all away, to keep them from caring about him.

They hovered around him and over him with worried faces – Libby, Bernard, Cindy, Jin. Maybe he didn't have to die alone after all.

Michael looked him straight in the eye and called his bluff again. "Yeah, well, good thing I ain't you."

A smart retort only made it as far as the hint of a smile on his face before darkness reached up and pulled him into itself until he knew no more.


	9. Chapter 9 You Find in the Ashes

Chapter Nine – You Find in the Ashes

He hurt so bad.

All he knew was pain and heat and thirst and constant motion.

As infection burned through his body, his brain began to shut down nonessential higher functions like consciousness and problem-solving in favor of damage control.

His awareness of reality slipped in and out, mostly out. Instead he inhabited a world made of dream and memory with only bits and pieces of reality making their way into the tapestry of delirium his mind created.

His earliest, most basic memories began to surface, fueled by the sense memories of fever and motion. The constant rocking of the improvised stretcher became the big rocking chair his grandpaw had made for his mother when he was just a baby.

He remembered being sick with the measles when he was about three. His mama had held him and rocked him in that big chair as he fretted and ached.

He missed her. He missed the way she loved him and took care of him. Nobody had ever loved him like that since his mama died. He had always been so alone after she left him.

But for just that little while, he was a little boy in her arms again, rocked in that big old chair.

- 0 -

He hurt so bad all over, in his bones, in his head, but more than anything in his shoulder.

The pain began to be mixed up with the other times he'd been hurt. He'd been in more fights than he could count and sometimes he was on the losing end of things. Kilo's boys had pummeled him pretty seriously after the Houston job went bad.

All the time they were working him over, they kept reminding each other not to hit him in the face. "Kilo said don't spoil his pretty looks," they'd laugh as they held him and took turns punching him in the gut. He felt his ribs crack. "He can't pay Kilo back if he can't earn his keep."

They let him go and he dropped to the floor on his hands and knees, trying to breathe past the sharp stabbing pains in his chest from his three broken ribs.

One of them kicked him to the ground and pulled his hand sharply up behind him. Then he planted one heavy foot on the back of his neck, pressing his face into the cold pitted concrete. "You owe Kilo another forty thousand, Sawyer," the man growled at him as he twisted Sawyer's arm savagely. "You will do whatever Hibbs says until that money is paid back, you got me?"

"I'll pay Kilo, but Hibbs can go to hell," Sawyer grunted.

Sawyer felt his shoulder dislocate with a burst of sudden agony as the man hauled back on it with all his strength. Black dots swam before his eyes as he nearly passed out from the pain.

"I said, you'll do whatever Hibbs says. You got me?" the thug repeated.

"Sure, sure," Sawyer gasped. "I got you." The man gave his shoulder another hard tug, kicking him in the ribs as he did so. The black dots swarmed together like a flock of crows and it all went black.

-0-

Sometime later, he became aware that he was moving again. His shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch. Had it been dislocated? Had Kilo's boys done it?

"I'm passing him up. You got him?" he heard a voice ask.

"Yeah, I got him." The answer came from right beside his head. He opened his eyes for a second and could see the ground far, far below him. But the light made his head pound and he closed them again, fighting nausea as he swayed in some kind of hammock.

Then he wasn't moving any more. He was lying on the hard ground. People were talking around him. He could hear someone calling out for Cindy.

A woman's voice overrode everyone else. "This is all your fault. We never should have gone through the jungle. You risked our lives to save him and he's already dead. This one's on you." She sounded pissed, but somehow he knew it wasn't the first time he'd pissed her off.

He's already dead.

He could feel the pounding waves of aching blackness rolling over him again, beating him into unconsciousness. Noises and shouting washed over him but the roaring in his ears drowned it all out.

All but the gunshot.

Maybe they killed him was his last conscious thought. They probably should have. He was dead already.

- 0 –

The rain fell in sheets over him as Hurricane Georges blew ashore. The wind whipped around him, accelerating the raindrops into a cold spray that stung his skin.

He'd come back to New Orleans because he'd heard she died.

Restaurant LaFleur was closed at last. He stood on the sidewalk in the pouring rain and ran his fingers over the faded fleur de lis on the door.

Now the rain poured over him, washing down his face and through his hair, soaking his clothes.

He'd never made things right with her. He'd walked out of her house and never looked back.

But he never forgot her. He never stopped wishing he'd done differently.

The rain was cold on his skin, but it masked the tears than came to his eyes. Mama Chère wouldn't be proud of him if she knew what he'd done with his life.

He began to shiver as he stood in the downpour. He was going to die alone, just like she said.

"I'm sorry, Mama Chère," he whispered into the rain. But it was too late to be sorry now.

- 0 –

Sensations began to creep into his perception. His hair was wet. Somebody was pouring water into his mouth. He was choking.

He coughed and tried to breathe. Voices came to him from a muffled distance. He couldn't think. He couldn't understand them.

He hurt all over.

He was so cold.

Through the pain and the cold and the confusion, he felt a hand in his hair and a familiar voice penetrated his awareness. He couldn't make out the words, but the tone was soft. ". . . take this pill. So I want you to swallow it, okay? Okay, here we go." The water came again, but he tried to do as the soft voice asked him. He was tired of messing things up. He just wanted to do something right.

She held him then and he leaned against her softness and warmth. He could feel her fingers in his hair. He wanted her to keep holding him and keep talking to him.

He slept.

- 0 –

It was on fire. The building was on fire and he couldn't get out. All around him the walls burst into giant sheets of flame. Something collapsed onto his shoulder and hot, stabbing pain lanced down his arm and into his fingers.

He fought free of the falling timber and tried to get out of the building, but hands pushed him back.

"No, Sawyer, you can't get up."

He just wanted out of the fire.

- 0 –

"Jimmy, come down from there! Those birds are going to get you!"

He had climbed too high in his grandmother's pecan tree and now he was stuck. He couldn't reach the branch below him, no matter how hard he stretched his feet down. He was going to have to hang by his fingers to reach it.

But he was scared.

He pressed his face against the bark so high up in the tree. When he dared to glance down to the ground, the distance to the grass overwhelmed him with dizziness and his stomach flipped.

"Those birds are going to get you!"

He saw the flock of blackbirds as they landed on the limbs around him, their weight making the branches creak and settle. One cocked his head at him and blinked its tiny black eye, black like a polar bear's, right next to his face.

Then it opened its sharp yellow beak and produced an unnaturally loud screech that startled him so badly he let go of his precarious hold.

He was falling.

He fell and couldn't catch himself.

He clutched at the branches, at the air, panic rising in him.

The birds fluttered at him in a cloud of black feathers and tore at his shoulder with their clawed feet. Terror gripped him then as he tried to beat them back, tried to catch something to stop him from falling to the ground.

Hands pushed back against him then. He could feel someone pressing his head back onto a pillow.

"Shhh, Sawyer, it's okay. You're safe. Go back to sleep, now."

He fought against the hands for just a moment, but that voice kept soothing him, kept stroking his hair and his cheek.

"It's just a dream. You're safe now."

- 0 –

God, his shoulder hurt so bad. The knife had gone in deep and twisted. That had to be it. He was going to bleed to death.

Somebody was talking to him, a deep voice this time.

What had they done to him? They were trying to kill him. They were trying to torture him to death.

God, his shoulder hurt so bad.

"Where is she?" he asked. He would tell her where the medicine was. He'd tell her anything to make the pain go away.

"Where is she?" He'd heard her voice in the night. He'd heard her whisper to him. He needed her now.

"You mean Kate."

Kate. Little glimmers of recognition ran through him. Little sense memories of a soft voice and gentle hands.

He needed Kate. Where had she gone? Why had she left him? He searched for the words to express his need for that touch, for that sense of comfort.

"I love her. I love her."

But he was alone again. He felt so lost and afraid. She'd left him. Why had she left him?

- 0 –

Mama?

His mama's record played on the stereo.

He was in his bed at home in Jasper. He could smell the cedar panels in his chifferobe. He always kept the doors open so he could smell the cedar.

Mama was in the kitchen making dinner. She was mashing up fruit for him.

He'd missed her. He'd missed her so bad all those years.

She'd put on some Patsy Kline. He could hear her in the kitchen singing "Crazy."

He got out of bed and went to see her. He wanted to hug her and see her again for just a minute.

He'd missed her so bad for all those years.

He could hear her singing as he walked down the hall. She wouldn't know who he was. He was grown now. He was a man, the same age as his daddy had been when it happened.

"Mama?" he called out to her.

She stood at the stove with her back to him, stirring something while she sang. Then she turned around and looked at him.

"Mama? It's me," his heart went into his throat as he looked at her. She was so pretty, so young, and he'd missed her so bad for so long.

"I'm sorry," she laughed politely. "Do I know you?"

"It's me," he repeated.

Her eyes opened in recognition, then narrowed again. "Oh. It's you," she said, and her voice was hard. "What do you want?"

"You left me, Mama," he crossed the gold and white linoleum floor. "Why did you leave me?"

"Because you killed me, Warren," she answered, her voice cold as she turned away from him back to the stove.

He grabbed her then and spun her to face him. "Mama, I died when you died. You left me and I died."

She reached up to touch his face then, to stroke his forehead. She tried to shush him, but everything was so mixed up and he was so angry at her. She'd killed him when she left him. He'd been so alone. Why had she done that to him? Didn't she love him anymore? Why did she do it?

"You killed me!" he yelled at her, grabbing at her to shake her, to make her understand. "Why did you kill me?"

But she pushed his fingers away and jerked back from him. Then her hair wasn't blonde anymore, it was brown. She held her hands to her throat and looked at him with terror in her eyes.

"Why did you do it? Why did you kill me that way?" he asked her again, but she ran from him.

He stood there alone in the kitchen and the gold and yellow linoleum looked different now. The stove vanished and the white cabinets changed to dark curving walls.

He stood there and trembled. "Why did you leave me?" he yelled at her. "Mama?"

But she was gone and he was alone.

He'd been alone ever since then.

Why did she leave him? Why did everybody leave him?

His head began to swim and the room spun around him.

He lay on the floor then, his cheek pressed against the cold concrete, his shoulder bursting into starry agony.

He lay there and hurt all alone.

Some folks were meant to be alone.

Why had she left him?

He slept.

- 0 –

He slept for such a long time, a deep dreamless sleep.

The sound of her voice drew him back to consciousness. He heard the rhythms of her words as they rose and fell.

She was back. She was talking to him.

Kate. It was Kate.

". . . I would never be good. I would never have anything good. And every time I look at Sawyer – every time I feel something for him – I see you, Wayne. It makes me sick."

He had no idea what she was talking about or who she was talking to. But a couple of things registered on him. First of all, that she felt something for him and second of all that it made her sick.

"That's about the sweetest thing I've ever heard," he commented.

"Sawyer?"

Then something else from her little speech registered on him as well. "Who the hell's Wayne?"

He opened his eyes and looked around him. "I'm in a bunk bed?" Was he on a boat? On a hospital ship?

"Yeah, you're in a bunk bed," she laughed a little.

"Are we saved?" he asked as a little thrill of hope ran through him.

But her next words struck it down sadly. "No, Sawyer. Not yet."

- 0 –

Later on the beach, he tried to resist the feeling of comfort and peace that flowed over him as her fingers played in his hair.

It took every bit of self-control he had not to pull her into his arms and cling to her like a lost child.

He compensated by being difficult as she cut his hair and snapped at Hurley when he welcomed him back, but he snapped quietly so only she heard him. Truthfully, he'd missed the big guy.

The rest of the beach crowd seemed glad to see him too. Even Michael had a kind word.

Rose walked over with Bernard as the evening sky began to turn dark.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping bring Bernard back to me," she said, pressing his hand with hers gently.

"Are you kidding? Bernard had to bring me back," Sawyer replied gruffly. Then he looked up at Bernard and he knew that he owed him – and the rest of them - a huge debt of gratitude. "Thanks. Thanks for that," he said and Bernard shook his hand with a smile.

"Michael told us that you got shot trying to save Walt from those people," Rose continued. "You did a very brave and selfless thing. I'm proud of you."

He looked up at her face and suddenly he remembered a woman he hadn't thought of in years.

"Don't be," his voice was rough. "I never did a good thing in my life."

"That's not true," Rose assured him. "I know better than that and so do you. So quit fighting your better self, Sawyer." She gave him a gentle pat on his good shoulder and the couple walked back down the beach hand in hand.

That's not my name, he wanted to call out to her.

But he couldn't do it.

- 0 –

That evening as the group gathered around the fire, he watched Hurley pull an airline seat into the circle and prop it up on a large rock.

"Come on, dude," he said. "I've got you a place to sit."

"Yeah, Sawyer," Kate added. "You've gotta show off that new haircut."

A string of smart remarks rose to his lips, but instead, he just sighed and took the hand Hurley held out to him and let the two of them help him stand up.

He eased carefully into his spot in the circle as Jin passed him a plate from the hatch, loaded down with all kinds of delicacies like instant mashed potatoes and canned meat.

After dinner, Rose brought him a plate of peach cobbler. It was still warm.

"Can you believe that the hatch actually has an oven?" Hurley said as he dug merrily into his dessert. "Rose is a genius."

Sawyer took a bite of the sweet fruity cobbler. It tasted like home. For just that instant he sat in Mama Chère's kitchen one last time.

He looked up into Rose's face, dark in the firelight. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," she answered softly. "Look around you."

As she walked away, he knew what she meant.

He'd become one of them.

He didn't have to be alone.


	10. Chapter 10 No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**(AUTHOR'S NOTE: These next chapters attempt to answer two very serious Sawyer questions – 1. Why the heck did he steal the guns? 2. Why on earth did he kill that frog? A frog? Please. If you've been reading this fic for very long, you know I have theories and will attempt to make it all come together in a way that makes Sawyer deeper and more interesting because he is. The show is all about Sawyer IMHO and dang it, I'm going to make sure our boy gets his due.)**

Chapter Ten – No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

"You got your reasons, I got mine," Sawyer snapped at Jack as they trekked through the jungle. But even as he said it, he wondered just what his reasons were.

Why the hell did he have any interest in tracking down Michael? The man had firmly declared that he was going after Walt and nobody was going to stop him. So why bother trying?

Jack had insinuated that maybe Sawyer was seeking revenge on the bastard who shot him.

Maybe he was. Maybe they could find Mike and help him find Walt. Sayid had told Kate he'd seen Walt in the jungle, so he had to be close.

If they found Walt, they would find the son of a bitch that took him. And if Sawyer got to shoot him as a part of their dramatic escape, he didn't see how that would be a problem for anybody.

But he couldn't help but wonder why Jack was so hell bent on bringing Mike back with them. Or why he was being such an asshole to Kate.

Well, maybe he did have an idea on that. Ever since he'd been carried back to camp half-dead, Kate had been extra nice to him. Maybe Jack didn't like it.

He'd been pretty out of it for the past several days, but snarled up in all the shreds of nightmarish memory was a very strong recollection of her holding him in her arms, whispering to him. He could still feel her hands stroking his hair and telling him he was home, he was safe.

However, there was that one thing that made him wonder if maybe she wasn't being nice because she felt guilty. He kept replaying the memory of her telling him she'd never be good because of something this Wayne character had done to her and that he reminded her of Wayne. Then she'd pretty much told him that being attracted to him made her sick.

But he still missed the way her arms had felt around him and the sound of her voice.

He shook himself as he trudged up yet another hill behind Lewis and Clark up there. His shoulder ached all the way down his arm and across his back and he could feel himself growing feverish. Despite this, he resisted the urge to ask for another break, knowing he shouldn't have come.

But he had to come. Why?

His reasons were his own, he decided.

- 0 –

If he'd been hyper-aware of every look Kate gave Jack before, he was downright obsessed once they'd confronted old Zeke in the jungle.

The instant that bastard pulled the hood off and revealed her very terrified face, Sawyer very nearly pulled the trigger on him. Only the fear that the man might shoot Kate as he died made Sawyer hold his fire.

He'd tossed his gun onto the pile, but every fiber in his being had rebelled against it.

"You and me ain't done, Zeke," he promised. He owed that bastard triple now – for taking Walt, for shooting him, and now for creating that look of terror in Kate's eyes.

Sawyer untied her as they pushed her to him, but her eyes sought Jack and his name was the first word out of her mouth when he pulled the gag loose. All the way back to camp, she kept trying to get Jack to stop and talk to her, to accept her apology.

He did his best to shrug it off. He knew the score. He'd known for weeks that she had a thing for the doctor.

But when he lay down to sleep at night, he kept remembering how she'd held him and talked to him. It had been a long time since anybody really cared about him, or thought they did at least. He wondered how long it had been since he'd slept with somebody he wasn't trying to con.

He lay there and tried to empty his mind and sleep. But now that he was back in camp again, the dreams had come back full force.

In addition to the usual re-living of every low life thing he'd done, every miserable choice he'd made, he was now dreaming about his father.

Now he was the one standing in the hallway with his mother, a gun in his hand. Sometimes he was himself, sometimes he was his dad. But every time, he was so angry with her for betraying him, for leaving him for someone else.

She stood there in the hatch and told him she was leaving him for Sawyer. Sometimes she stood there and told him she was leaving him for Jack.

Sometimes her hair was the blonde he remembered; sometimes it was brown.

Sometimes he shot her, full of anger and bitterness at the way his life had turned out without her.

Sometimes he threw down the gun and held her tightly in his arms as she stroked his hair and told him he was home, he was safe.

Sometimes it was Kate he held.

Then when he woke up, he watched Kate's eyes follow Jack everywhere he went.

During the day, he did his best to downplay it all, to pretend he didn't care. But he couldn't take the dreams.

Jack had offered to give him some of the pain meds he'd found in the cockpit for his shoulder, but he'd refused them. Many years ago, he'd fallen into some serious use habits and had sworn to himself not to go back there again. He had even refused to try them for his headaches, glad that the glasses had helped enough to keep him from having to.

But now, the temptation of a dreamless sleep overrode his scruples.

It hadn't been hard to lift the bottle out of the makeshift infirmary they'd set up in that hatch of theirs. That night as he shook one of the little white oblong tablets into his hand, he sighed in defeat.

All he wanted was one dreamless night.

One night when he wasn't a murderer.

One night when he didn't abandon his baby daughter.

One night when he didn't kill the woman who loved him.

One night when he didn't want to be loved so badly it hurt.

He gave the pill another long look, then he tossed it into his mouth and swallowed it.

- 0 –

The next morning dawned fresh and bright, and Sawyer felt better than he had in weeks. He'd slept the whole night through in sweet, unbroken slumber, and Kate was coming over to help him exercise his shoulder.

Jack never made an appearance on the beach, which meant Sawyer had Kate's full attention as he flirted with her and attempted to make her laugh. He enjoyed the playful way she slapped at him when he pushed it too far.

Hell, his good mood even extended to a pick-up game of cards with Hurley. The big man didn't know how to play anything good, anything that involved gambling that is, and Saywer resolved to teach him. Having something at stake always added to the interest.

He'd hammered him mercilessly for nearly an hour playing gin before Hurley had finally gotten bored and rose to leave.

"Aw, come on, Hurley," Sawyer used his most cajoling voice. "I can't read any more since I lost my glasses. There's nothing else to do. One more hand."

But Hurley was already walking after that Libby girl from the tail section. "Later, dude," he called back over his shoulder.

Sayid sat on the beach a few yards down from him, but Sawyer just let him be. The guy looked like a zombie these days. Apparently he and Shannon had gotten really close just before Ana Lucia blew a hole in her.

Sawyer couldn't believe Sayid was taking it as well as he had. Considering his own experience with the former torturer, he was surprised the guy hadn't strung Ana up by now.

Sawyer had been only borderline conscious during that whole business, but he recalled enough of it to know that Ana had just shot without thinking. It could have been any of them coming back from taking a leak or picking fruit.

If Sayid wanted payback, Sawyer would be happy to help, he decided. He'd experienced Ana Lucia's brand of leadership and team motivation already. The woman was a menace.

Just then, he caught the sight of Ana Lucia strolling up with a little smile on her face.

"Glad to see you're so chipper," he quipped as she passed.

"It's a beautiful day," she replied. "See ya."

He watched her make a big casual, wandering circle around Sayid, then head to the next tent to talk to Steve.

After a moment, Steve pulled that Mexican guy or Brazilian or whatever he was into their little coffee klatch. When they headed off into the jungle, he decided it was time to do a little reconnaissance and see what the menace to society over there was up to.

Circling behind them, he caught up to them on the path that led to the next beach and hid behind a stand of banana trees to listen in.

"So what about Sayid?" Steve was asking.

"I can't ask him," Ana replied firmly. "You guys talk to him if you want to."

"Then I'll do it," the Spanish guy declared. "Who else is there?"

"Well, Sawyer knows how to handle a gun," Steve suggested. Sawyer couldn't help but grin at that. Ask any damn polar bear in the jungle, he thought to himself.

"No," Ana Lucia shook her head emphatically. "I'm not having Sawyer on the team."

"Why not?"

"Because he's an ex-con. And he's not a team player. Nobody joins up except the ones I can count on completely," she stated firmly.

"Sawyer's been in prison?" the Spanish guy asked. "How do you know?"

"I'm an ex-cop. It takes one to know one." Sawyer caught sight of her smug grin as he peered through a gap in the leaves.

"So the only other one who's shot anything is Charlie. I heard he made that guy Ethan look like Swiss cheese," Steve suggested.

"Maybe," Ana replied. "We'll keep an eye on him, feel him out."

"So when do we start training?" the Spanish guy asked, rubbing his hands together as if he were eager, but Sawyer could see the anxiety in his face.

"As soon as I can free up some weaponry. Jack just needs to convince Locke to come on board," Ana replied, one hand resting on the butt of the primitive club she carried at her waist. "I figure that'll happen any day now. If Jack wants an army, by God, I'm going to give him an army."

_An army_, Sawyer thought to himself as he watched Ana Lucia and the two men head back to the beach. So that was what she and Jack kept discussing in all their trips into the jungle. They were planning to arm up and go after Zeke and crew General Custer style.

"Son of a bitch," he murmured to himself. Jack had gone off the deep end if he thought their rag-tag crew could take on the commandos that lived on the other side of the island.

That bunch might try to look like the boys from Deliverance, but he'd seen enough to convince him that they were much more sophisticated and prepared than they appeared.

Sawyer was a professional at coming across as much less threatening than he really was – he made his living doing that "aw shucks dumb old country boy" routine. Hell, he was rocking that one right now. He knew a pose when he saw one and old Zeke was posing big time.

So Jack wanted an army. Led by General Ana Lucia "Mad Dog" Cortez. She was a loose cannon cop if he'd ever known one, trigger happy in the extreme. The last thing they all needed was for Ana, Steve, and Pablo (or Diego or Rodrigo or whoever the hell he was) to be running around the jungle packing live rounds.

Shannon wouldn't be their last casualty.

He headed back the way he came, pausing to allow the three of them to re-enter the beach camp a hundred feet away before returning to his tent.

He was going to have to do something, he thought to himself. But he'd need help. Somebody disgruntled enough with the current power structure to go against Jack and Locke. Somebody just as suspicious or pissed off as he was.

During the night, apparently Charlie had some kind of crazy dreams himself and tried to take Aaron out into the ocean. According to the coconut internet, he'd had quite the showdown with Claire, but Sawyer had slept through the entire episode, thanks to his bottle of pain meds.

He gratefully slipped the pills deeper into his backpack. If not for those little sleep-inducers, he might have been standing in the water next to him, thinking he held Clementine. They could open a deep sea Daddy Daycare together in their hallucinations. Without his fix, he was becoming certifiable himself at night.

For a moment, he wondered if Charlie needed a dose himself, then remembered that it hadn't been that long ago that Charlie had been full-fledgedly hooked on heroine. Perhaps offering him another drug wasn't the best idea.

But a couple of days later when Charlie's mania extended to setting fires in order to kidnap Aaron for some strange purposes, Sawyer's sympathy for him began to fail. Maybe the ex-druggie really had become a current druggie again like Locke believed.

Or maybe that damned island was just getting the better of him, of all of them.

Sawyer watched as Locke pummeled the guy nearly unconscious. But before anybody needed to step in, Charlie pulled himself out of the water and slipped away.

The guy looked beat in every way possible as the rest of the camp shunned him, and Sawyer knew he'd found his accomplice.

The next morning, Sawyer came back from his swim to see Charlie serendipitously moving in next door. He slipped into his clothes and approached with a mixture of sympathy and disgust. Whatever the hell had been going through the rock star's mind, he'd sure handled it poorly.

"Well, well," he began genially, "now look who's had to relocate to the suburbs. Ain't that just like a woman? She keeps the house and you get the cheap-ass apartment."

When Charlie didn't respond, he knew it was time to push a little, to see just how unbalanced he was, to see if he truly had gone around the bend. "Man, I thought these people hated me, but I've got to hand it to you – stealing a baby, trying to drown it – now, that's a new low. You even made Locke take a swing at you. Hell, that's like getting Ghandi to beat his kids."

But Charlie's response was unexpected, "Shouldn't you be worried about Jack ransacking your tent right now?"

- 0 -

The doc had taken his pills.

Jack hadn't asked Sawyer for them. He hadn't asked why he had them. Instead, Jack had gone into his tent and just confiscated them like he was some teenager keeping a stash of pot under his mattress.

Sawyer was furious, but at the same time, he realized that Jack had provided him just the motivation he needed to justify his plan to Charlie, one druggie to another.

"I needed those things, Charlie," he told him sincerely. "I can't sleep worth a shit without them. Who the hell does Jack think he is? He and Locke stay holed up in that damned hatch all the time like they are the only ones with permission to be there."

Charlie nodded in agreement.

"Besides, they're working on a plan to start a freaking army," Sawyer continued. "Who's going to be the one to pop out of the woods beside one of those weekend warriors and get shot? You? Me? Hurley?"

Just then Kate walked out of the jungle down the beach, as if on cue. "Kate?" Sawyer added quietly.

Charlie looked at him steadily for a minute. "I'm in," he stated. "You are sure this will work?"

"I'm sure. I'll be listening for Sun to scream. When you hear me coming, you let her go and run like I interrupted you," Sawyer instructed as he passed him the hood and the belt. "We're not going to hurt her."

Charlie headed out toward Sun's garden as Kate walked up to his tent, a sympathetic grin on her face.

"I hear Jack took your pain killers," she said with a smile.

- 0 –

Sawyer gently gathered the unconscious Sun into his arms and ran back to camp, his heart pounding in fear. That hadn't been supposed to happen. She was supposed to get away and run into him for rescue, not run into a tree.

The last thing he wanted was for Jin to ever find out that he'd been responsible for Sun getting hurt like this. But as he watched Jin demand a gun from Jack, he knew that he couldn't have planned it any better.

All the pieces fell into place, even down to Locke's decision to betray Jack's trust and take the guns for himself. But as Sawyer sat in the hatch and waited for Jack to show up or Locke to come back, he had time to think.

Locke hadn't just taken the guns out of the safe, he'd taken the medicine too. Now he didn't trust Jack with the drugs either.

Nobody trusted anybody. Nobody had anybody's back. All that live together, die alone crap was bullshit. After everything they'd been through, Locke still went behind his partner's back and moved the guns. Jack was still going to take the guns he wanted even without Locke's permission.

It was just like he thought; they were both full of shit.

After his dramatic little confrontation with Jack in the hatch, Sawyer met Charlie in the jungle and picked up one of the rifles. Now it was time for the show. Everybody needed to know who had the guns, but they didn't need to know why.

No need to stir up bad blood over that whole army business, he decided. Sayid and Ana clearly had an understanding with each other and the rest of the crew on the beach had already forgotten how Shannon died. Maybe that was for the best considering the new threat posed by Zeke and his rowdies somewhere across the island. They'd better work harder at living together.

So that left justification by shaving cream. Nobody would question it. Jack wouldn't question the idea that he'd done it because of the pain meds – God, he missed those things already and it was just going to get worse.

Only Kate didn't buy the shaving cream angle. She believed he did it to be hated.

Maybe being hated was a side-effect of his ploy, but he knew better. He did it because he had to. He did it because somebody had to make the hard call and stop Jack and Ana from getting them all killed.

He'd told Charlie he never did anything good in his entire life. That was true. He didn't take the guns because he was trying to do something good.

He was a survivor. He was good at looking out for himself. He'd betrayed Cassidy because that was the only way to keep them both alive. It wasn't his fault he profited from it as well.

Now, he was just trying to keep himself alive. It wasn't his fault if he kept everybody else alive as well.

He lay down to sleep that night as comfortable as he could get, considering that he was lying on a crate full of weaponry and illegal drugs. He kept one of the 9mms close at hand in case somebody got the bright idea to throw him in another pit or tie him to another tree to find out where the rest of the guns were.

The circle by the fire that night hadn't been companionable. In fact, he'd sat down only to have his neighbor get up, saying he was just going after some water. But when the guy came back, he found a seat somewhere else.

Fine. Good. He didn't need anybody.

But maybe, just maybe that crew needed him.


	11. Chapter 11 Tough Enough

(Author's Note: Yay! I updated! That frog business had to be put to bed. Y'all let me know how this works for you. Next, Ana Lucia. . . )

Chapter Eleven – Tough Enough

He woke up with a start, aware that someone was staring at him.

"Got my money, punk?" the big shape asked.

"Yeah, yeah," he murmured, trying to come up with a name to go with the hulk before him. He owed so many thugs money it was a challenge to keep it all straight.

Jim dug into his jeans pocket as he lay there on the mattress on the floor and fished out a twenty. "There you go, twenty bucks," he stated, holding the bill out to the guy.

"Twenty bucks, my ass," the guy snarled. "You owe me fifty, you dumbshit. Where's the rest of it?"

Something about the insult tripped his memory, and Jim recalled indeed owing this particular thug—they called him Meatball—fifty dollars. He dug around and pulled out another twenty and two fives.

"How much more you got in there, Jimmy boy?" Meatball asked with an evil grin as he thumbed through the notes.

"That's it. You've tapped me out," Jim lied, giving the guy his most innocent smile. "I won't even be able to eat breakfast in the morning."

"Nope, you won't," Meatball replied, then pulled back his fist and punched Jim right in the mouth. "That's for trying to shortchange me, you bastard."

Jim held his hand to his now-bleeding lip and watched him walk out of the room. He'd been back in Nashville less than a week and already he'd managed to fall afoul of the petty crimelord that now ran his old neighborhood.

He rose wearily from the dirty mattress that served as his current home and headed into what passed for a bathroom. So far the city had left the water on at the run-down house and they'd managed to bypass the electric meter for power. But they all knew that sooner or later the authorities would raid the place and arrest all the crack-heads, runaways, and ne'er do wells that squatted there.

The back room at Mama Chère's had been a palace in comparison. He missed New Orleans, but not enough to go crawling back.

He dabbed at the busted place on his lip with the cleanest towel he could find. If he was going to stay in Nashville, he had to do better than this. He was going to have to toughen up and start swinging with the big boys. Otherwise, they'd find his dead body at the bottom of a dumpster.

- 0 –

The nights had grown long without the pills to give him respite from his dreams. He kept remembering things and reliving them. Days he'd long thought forgotten, people he hadn't thought about in years came back to him at night.

The tropical morning was both a welcome relief from the endless night and a reminder that he wasn't sleeping.

His shoulder was better at least, thanks to Kate's physical therapy sessions. He enjoyed it when she came around, but after the bit with the guns, she'd made herself scarcer of late. Everybody kept their distance in fact - everybody except Ana Lucia of all people.

Ana had actually gone out of her way to talk to him. He figured she was feeling him out, trying to learn his comings and goings, hoping to track him back to his gun cache.

Maybe she was trying to soften him up too. Maybe she wanted to make amends for having stuck her boot in his shoulder repeatedly.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Sawyer," she smiled at him over the trestle table that served as a serving bar for the group. "I had you pegged as a stupid redneck, but you sure put one over on this bunch."

"Even us rednecks get lucky sometimes," he gave her a grin just as full of poison saccharine as hers. "But I bet I never fooled you, did I?"

"Oh, I was fooled all right. I thought you were dead back there in the jungle. But here you are, alive and kicking," she declared as she picked up a banana. "So what's your plan, cowboy? What are you going to do with all those guns?"

"Well, I'm sure as hell not going to start forming an army, if that's what you're wondering." He selected his own breakfast and turned to walk away.

"Why not?" she asked behind him. He turned back to see just what kind of crack she was smoking. "We've got rifles and pistols and plenty of ammo. You and Locke and Sayid and me and Eko all know how to use a weapon. We could bring the fight to those bastards and end all this once and for all." She stood there with her hip cocked out, her hand on the butt of that club, her eyes flashing defiantly.

"Well, Pancho, the last time we all went in loaded for bear we got our asses handed to us on a plate and old Zeke walked away with four of our guns," Sawyer replied. "They knew every move we made from the minute we walked into their jungle. They got Mike and his gun too. So now we're five less in the weapons locker and they're five to the good. How many more you want to give them? Or do you want another one of us killed? They beat Scott to a pulp right there in the middle of our camp with guards stationed all around."

He walked back over to her and pointed at the club on her hip. "Maybe that piece you're carrying makes you feel safer. Maybe you think you'll get a chance to get some of your own back by swinging it upside one of their heads. But I don't think you'll ever get close enough to one of them to use it."

She glared back at him. "Well, maybe you're afraid. Maybe you just don't have the balls to try," she stated, staring him right back in the eyes.

He turned on one of his most practiced sexy grins and gave her a slow, leisurely look up and down, pausing at her breasts for a long second before looking her right back in the eyes again. "You want to check out my equipment, go right ahead," he purred. "But you ain't getting a gun."

She let her dark eyes linger on his for a moment, then gave him a once over of her own, bringing up a finger to run down the bare skin of his chest where his shirt gaped open. "You let me know when you toughen up, cowboy," she whispered huskily. Then she turned and sashayed away, her hips swinging as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder.

It was all he could do not to laugh, but at the same time, he had to admire her spunk. And her ass.

- 0 –

It turned out that of all things, the afternoon was the best time to sleep. Nights were murder, but in the afternoon when the sun was high and the camp was quiet as they all rested in the shade, he could actually lie down in his tent and sleep without dreams.

The sound of the waves crashing against the beach and the wind in the trees created a sort of white noise that drowned out his thoughts. Plus, his guard was relaxed just a bit by knowing that folks weren't likely to come into his tent and drag him off to torture him for information about the weapons cache right there in broad daylight.

That didn't mean the 9mm he carried on his person wasn't right there at his reach, but it did dial back his paranoia level just a bit.

He'd done his fair share of sleeping with his back against the wall in his day, but it had been a while. The best thing about working for Kilo had certainly been the level of protection his goons offered against the other goons likely to target him. That had left him with only Kilo to worry about and as long as he got his money on time, he was a pretty easy-going boss.

On the other hand, when he wasn't paid on time, no amount of caution could keep the wolves at bay. It was better to just wade in there and take it like a man.

Sawyer sat in his easy chair on the beach and watched Claire and the baby. He could hear her voice talking softly to the baby as she rocked him in his little crib. But within a few minutes, the baby had started to cry again.

He hated to hear him cry. At night it just made him dream about Clementine or piglets or puppies.

A memory ran over him with a flash of recollection. He was maybe ten, living with his uncle in Tennessee. They were raising a litter of hunting dogs that spring and one of them wasn't doing well.

A work buddy of his uncle's had come by to see the pups.

"Hey, Shirley Dimples," the man had greeted him. "I bet you lose stuff in those, don't you?"

He'd stopped smiling with the first words out of the guy's mouth, but the asshole wouldn't let up. "You look like a sweet little girl with your long blonde hair and those pits in your face. You got your pink panties on today?"

His uncle had laughed along briefly, but then diverted the guy to look over the puppies. "I wanted you to take a look at this one, Bud," he began, holding up the one really poor-looking dog. The poor little thing had been so weak it couldn't even hold up its head.

Bud rolled the puppy over in his hands, prodding its belly and opening its mouth. "Got a bad cleft palate," was his assessment. "This one's just going to starve to death."

"Can it be fixed?" Uncle Doug had asked him. "I hate to lose one."

Bud shook his head. "Could try, but wouldn't be worth the money, in my opinion. You've got eight more. The vet's going to charge you an arm and a leg and it might not work. You'd better just put this one down."

Uncle Doug had sighed. "You're probably right. Jimmy, go to the house."

"Hell, Doug, make the boy watch," Bud had said, then walked over to where Doug kept a hand axe and a chopping block. "He looks like a girl as it is. He needs to toughen up a little, see a little blood to know what the world is really like."

"I don't think he—" but before the words could come out of his uncle's mouth, Bud had ended the puppy's life, cracking it in the skull with the butt end of the axe, right there in the barn.

"There you go, quick and painless. Better than starving to death. What's gotta be done has gotta be done," Bud cleaned up the mess with the efficiency of a butcher, even wiping down the axe with some brown paper towels before setting it back into the big block with a single, efficient chop.

"The rest of those look good. I think you'll get a fine bunch of coondogs out of them." Bud walked back out to his truck with his uncle and they talked a minute. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but judging from the looks cast his direction, he figured they were talking about him.

Over in the dog pen, the mama rolled the puppies over with her nose, licking at them and pushing them around. He'd wondered if maybe she was looking for the dead one.

After a few minutes, his uncle had come back. "You okay, Jimmy?" he'd asked.

He remembered nodding at him, trying not to think about the dead puppy, trying not to think about the blood and the way blood looked when it ran out of something.

"I'm real sorry about that. Bud didn't know," his uncle had said.

"It's okay," he remembered saying. "I'm fine."

"You're a tough kid." His uncle had patted him on the shoulder at that.

But he hadn't been tough. He'd been in shock. He was only a hair's breadth away from bursting into tears. But he sucked it up. He'd dealt with it.

He'd forced himself back out to the kennel every day just like before, even though the wood block was still stained with that puppy's blood. He'd forced himself to play with the other puppies and not notice that he counted eight instead of nine now.

But as he sat there on the beach, the awful sound of that baby crying tore at him. He knew he'd hear it all night in his dreams. He knew he'd relive that moment with the falling axe and that somehow it would all be twisted up in his head so that he was the one doing it.

A sudden scream from the edge of the trees shook him out of his memories and he jumped up from his chair, his hand going reflexively to the gun in his waistband.

Libby darted out of the trees, laughing and squealing as Hurley pursued her, armed with some kind of squeeze bottle.

"What the hell are you two doing?" he snapped at them angrily.

Hurley paused in front of him, panting from the run. He held up a bottle of Dharma dishwashing detergent with a grin. "This one ran out, so I filled it up with water," he explained with a goofy grin. "Almost as good as a water gun."

"Damn it, I nearly shot you, coming out of the woods hollering like that," Sawyer fumed. "Or don't you two remember where you are? We've got a whole troop of homicidal maniacs living on the other side of this damned island who make kidnapping us one of their favorite pastimes."

Hurley actually looked embarrassed and Libby reached out a hand to his arm, her face suddenly grown solemn. "We're sorry," she apologized. "You're right. We weren't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't thinking," he answered. Then he took a look around the beach. A couple of the guys had set up a puttputt course on a grassy patch and were taking turns. Some of the girls were braiding each other's hair while others frolicked in the surf.

These people weren't shipwrecked. They were vacationing.

Maybe Jack and Locke remembered what the Others had done. Maybe Sayid and Ana knew what they were up against, but the rest of that bunch was useless. They were all going to die horribly before it was over.

Hurley and Libby took advantage of his diverted attention to slip away, but he watched them start playing again just a little ways down the beach from him.

_Damn it,_ he swore again. One gun wasn't going to be enough to protect this crew if Zeke's bunch came calling. Behind him, Claire shifted the baby to the other side as she fed him. He looked away quickly. That was not something he wanted to see.

But who was going to protect her and the baby? Who was going to make sure Hurley didn't walk off into the woods and get himself killed? Who was going to see that Libby didn't get taken in the middle of the night?

Sawyer sighed. "Looks like I got night shift," he muttered under his breath.

- 0 –

That night and the next passed peacefully. Hell, it wasn't like he could sleep anyway. He might as well keep watch over things.

Each night, Sayid got up and sat at the fire with him for a while. They didn't talk; they just sat there quietly together. He considered offering the Iraqi one of the 9mms, but decided against it. He didn't think the former soldier would take it. Not right now anyway.

He slept during the afternoon.

Until that frog started in.

He dealt with it the first day by putting his thin airline pillow over his head and just ignoring it. The damned thing quit chirping just as the sun set. He tried to catch a few Z's, but woke up even before everyone had turned in with another nightmarish permutation of his memories burning a hole in his mind.

So he'd sat up, red-eyed and angry until sunrise. Steve and that Columbian guy started in at breakfast bitching about whose turn it was to get water until he threatened to beat the shit out of both of them if they didn't shut the hell up. Then Jin and Sun started in on each other in Korean—over what he did not know, nor did he care.

By midmorning, his nerves were shot and he was so tired he couldn't keep his eyes open. So he lay down in his tent to try to catch just a little sleep.

Then that frog started his little morning symphony.

Damn if it wasn't even louder. Its piercing chirp would echo in his head for a few seconds, then silence. His eyes would drift shut and he would be just nearly asleep when the little amphibious bastard would scream out again, startling him awake. Then it would go to silence again and he'd be just about to drift off when Bernard would come by yelling for Rose. Then silence. He'd be just about gone when the frog alarm would go off once more.

This went on for at least two hours. Every time he'd be just nearly asleep, that damned frog would chirp or somebody in camp would drop a pile of firewood or call out to somebody or squeal as Hurley's water bottle hit them or start arguing with each other. Then that frog would chirp.

He couldn't take it anymore. He was going to kill that frog or by God he was going to kill somebody. He figured it had better be the frog.

After Jin blew him off, he headed into the jungle, half-hoping to run into Zeke. Instead, he met up with Hurley.

Damn it, the big curly-headed goof was just asking for somebody to come along and blow a hole through him out there. He was deep in the jungle, completely absorbed in his ranch dressing orgy, defenseless against whoever might come along.

"What you got there, Rerun?" he asked, partially amused by the size of the jar the big man was eating out of, partially infuriated by it. Once the enormity of the stash was revealed, he was really infuriated. The guy was going to kill himself on six year old dressing. And he was keeping a food stash. After all the grief he'd taken for all this time for having a private supply stash, here was everybody's buddy Hurley holding out peanut butter and candy bars.

The guy had a serious problem, that was for sure.

As they chased that damned frog through the underbrush, he considered the best way to help the big guy. Sawyer wasn't much on sympathy and understanding—he'd come from the school of hard knocks, having had most of his bad habits beat out of him. He wasn't going to rat him out, but it wasn't safe or healthy for Hurley to be heading out into the jungle on his own for a junk food fix.

Meanwhile, that frog kept chirping, always just ahead of them, teasing him with its nearness. He pushed himself deeper into the jungle, knowing every step brought them closer to the line Zeke had drawn in the sand between the groups. But fatigue and lack of sleep had made him unreasonable and he itched for a confrontation—between him and Zeke or him and that damned amphibian. He snapped at Hurley instead, getting even testier when the guy corrected him. "That's Babar."

Barbar, Babar. What the hell did it matter?

But it did. He hated those reminders that his formal education had ended in ninth grade. That was part of what pissed him off so badly about Jack - Jack with his medical degree and his rich stores of knowledge carefully passed down to him by the university system.

Sawyer's stores of knowledge were cobbled together from the backs of cereal boxes. He knew a little about a lot of things - couldn't run a successful con without having at least the buzzwords down. But buzzwords were no replacement for real understanding.

He struck back out of the depths of his frustration and anger. Who the hell was Hurley to correct him?

"Fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat!" Hurley retorted. Sawyer could hear the self-loathing and pain in his voice. It was a little shocking to hear that kind of anger from somebody so happy-go-lucky.

Despite himself, Sawyer couldn't let him leave that way. He didn't give a rat's ass whether anybody else on that island gave a shit about him. But he didn't want to hurt Hurley's feelings either. The school of hard knocks had been a bitch to him. Why pass that kind of misery along to anybody else?

Amends made, they picked up the trail a few minutes later, the little piping frog loudly announcing its presence. When he managed to catch the leaping creature, he was surprised how small it was in his hand.

"Well, I'll be damned," he sighed. "All that noise from this tiny critter."

Hurley began some story about how his mother threw out his pet turtle, but Sawyer was transfixed by the daintiness of the little creature he held. The little creature was so happy to be alive, so full of noise. It practically vibrated in his hand as he stroked its back.

"Well, you're a happy little fella, ain't ya?" he said. Maybe there was room in the jungle for both of them. Maybe happiness and life ought to win out once in a while.

When Hurley asked to take it far away and release it onto another beach, he considered doing just that. Live and let live.

Just like Zeke had offered. You stay on your beach, we'll stay on ours.

But Hurley was living in a dream world. It didn't work like that. The bullies always came back. Mercy was a luxury one couldn't often afford.

It was better that he learned that now, that he saw a little blood, that he learned how the world really worked. He had to toughen up.

Otherwise, Zeke would catch him alone and defenseless with ranch dressing on his chin.

Sawyer gave the tiny animal a hard, decisive squeeze until he felt it give way to death in his hand.

"I hear that with a little ranch, they taste just like chicken." He passed the little body into Hurley's hand, watching as the big guy's optimism faded into grief.

He'd been quick. It had been painless. But it had to be done.

All the same, he hated himself for doing it.


	12. Chapter 12 Afterglow

**(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This sort-of, almost happy chapter is for Eyeon who has long requested a happy one. Don't get too attached though, folks, 'cause most of Sawyer's story is sad, sad, sad. Poor baby. **

**Oh, and warning for sensual content ahead. Not too graphic 'cause I just can't go there, but they do have wild passionate sex. Feel free to skip passages if needed. Don't want to traumatize any delicate souls out there!)**

Chapter Twelve - Afterglow

Sawyer laid them down with a huge smile. "Gin," he stated triumphantly.

"Crap! Crap, crap, crap!" Hurley yelled, throwing his hand down angrily. "How do you do that, dude? Is it some kind of magic trick? I needed one card! One card!"

Sawyer shrugged and picked up the deck. "What can I say, Hoss? Too many years of practice. I can almost smell what you've got in your hand," he explained with a grin.

Hurley got up from the makeshift card table with a sigh. "I'm done," he groaned.

"Aw, come on," Sawyer pleaded. "One more hand, Hurley."

"Nope," the big man shook his head. "I'm done playing gin with you, Sawyer. It just leads to frustration and heartbreak, every time."

"Story of my life," Sawyer muttered under his breath. "Then how about poker?" he offered.

"I don't know how to play," came Hurley's reply as he turned to walk away.

"Well, I'll teach you then. But it's too boring around here not to play something. The puttputt course is too easy and the battery in that damned Gameboy didn't last a week," Sawyer complained.

Hurley stopped, then stared down him with venom in his eyes. "You had a Gameboy?" he asked incredulously. Then he repeated his question even more fiercely. "You had a Gameboy?"

"Yeah," Sawyer admitted. Then he played his trump card. "But you had a cd player and did you share with me? No."

Hurley shook his head and backed down. "Okay, maybe I didn't. But you were being such a pain in the ass when we first crashed," he gave him an accusatory stare. Then his anger melted in typical Hurley fashion. "If the battery wasn't dead, I'd let you borrow it now."

"Same here," Sawyer agreed magnanimously. But Hurley still left, asking everybody he saw if they'd seen Libby around.

Hurley stopped Ana Lucia, who pointed back into the jungle down the path that led to the hatch. Sawyer watched in amusement as Hurley practically ran that direction. But his amusement was short lived as he watched Ana Lucia approach him.

However, she wasn't frowning as usual. She had a smile on her face. The change of attitude made her look almost attractive.

"Playing games?" she asked as she stepped up to his tent.

"Poker," he replied with a grin of his own. "I'll deal you in." Then he gave her a long, leisurely look and added, "We can play strip."

She actually laughed out loud, a real laugh. It was nice to hear. Maybe the frost queen was beginning to thaw a little in the island heat.

"Actually, I was looking for Kate. I thought you might have seen her since you two are thick as thieves," Ana replied.

"Nope, not today." Sawyer began to shuffle the deck. "She's probably back at the hatch."

"I don't think so. I just came from there. Locke said she hadn't been by in a few days," Ana said. "I'll keep looking."

Sawyer watched the former cop amble off down the sand, noting that her ever-present stick wasn't present. Maybe Ana Lucia was beginning to relax a little. It was about time. Maybe she'd turn back into a human being without the constant stress of defending her group from the Others.

He had to say that things had been very quiet of late. Nobody had asked for a gun. Nobody had even asked for any medicine except for Frogurt who wouldn't shut up about needing some anti-itch cream for a rash he had. No matter how many times Sawyer told him that there wasn't any, the annoying turd wouldn't quit asking.

Finally Sawyer had told him that he'd give it to him in exchange for ten loads of laundry. Frogurt had done three already. He had no idea what he was going to do when they reached ten. Maybe a tube of yeast infection cream would placate him. When he squinted really hard at the fine print on the tube, he could make out something about itch.

A few days later, when Jack was ready to play poker for the drugs, Sawyer was more than happy to offer them. He had grown sick and tired of playing island pharmacist. Everybody wanted what he didn't have, and never believed him when he said he didn't have it.

Even finding a pregnancy test of all things for Sun wasn't enough to make those people happy. Sure Jin was grinning like crazy knowing he was going to be a proud papa, but it only stepped up the heat on him to produce everything from Midol to prescription hemorrhoid cream. He was learning things about his fellow castaways that he simply didn't want to know.

However, it still stung when Jack beat him. But worse than losing the hand - with a pair of nines for God's sake - was the taunting. Trash talk he could handle, but Jack dished out superiority with a silver spoon.

Then the damned doc didn't even bother to come get the drugs. Hurley had to come to him for his looney medicine.

He wasn't a doctor, God damn it. He didn't know anything about dealing with people having delusions. If Jack had picked up the drugs like he was supposed to, Hurley would have gone to him and Jack could have played Dr. Feelgood with his impeccable bedside manner and thorough knowledge of psychiatry.

It had pissed Sawyer off to no end that he'd been the one to cause Hurley to go off the deep end. Everybody got a good laugh at the sight of the big man dragging him back under the folds of the tarp. Everybody thoroughly enjoyed hearing the dude snap on him as he punched him repeatedly.

"The man's crazy," he'd said to Kate once Hurley had stormed off. But what he really wanted to say was "the man's right." He had said all those things to him. He had called him all those names at one point or another. Back in the jungle when they'd gone frog hunting, he'd apologized to Hurley, but that apology hadn't been enough. Hurley was right and he was wrong, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

Then just when he thought maybe Kate was going to hang around the beach a little more - after all he did supply her with weaponry for her girl's night out adventure with Claire and the French chick - Jack snagged her for an adventure of his own. Excitement had practically oozed out of her pores she was so thrilled to be summoned to his side once more.

Shit.

Not even the prospect of an actual red velvet cake for dessert, thanks to Rose's skill with a boxed mix and the new food drop, was enough to raise his spirits.

Jack and Kate had been gone all night. Something was up, he knew it. Jack had been even more obsessed than usual. Kate had been even more willing to go than usual. He figured he might as well write that one off. After Jack had shown his poker prowess, she'd reattached herself pretty firmly to his side and he'd taken her back into his confidence.

Jack and Kate were Jack and Kate again.

So be it. He didn't need anything from either of them. He didn't need anything from Hurley. He didn't need anything from Charlie or Jin or Sun. And Michael wasn't ever coming back. Not without his kid.

And they didn't need him. Something was going on at the hatch, but nobody had bothered to inform him. Jack truly believed that when he needed the guns, he'd get the guns. Asshole. Until then, Sawyer wasn't part of the circle of trust. He wasn't in the loop. They didn't need him.

So he was on his own, just like always.

A noise drew his attention as he gathered a few mangoes to go along with the risotto and canned green beans Rose was making for dinner. She was one of the few people on that damned island that just asked him for things. No demands, no tantrums. She just asked and he always did his best to deliver.

He gathered up the fruit and listened carefully. "Come out, come out, whoever you are. I know you're there," he called. Surely Ana Lucia wasn't back trying to get him to give her a gun. She'd been a real pain in the past day or so, ever since she and Sayid got back from their little expedition who knows where. They even took Charlie.

But unless she wanted to tell him why she wanted a gun so badly, he wasn't about to turn loose of one. Besides, he was a little sick of being out of the damned loop. "Don't make me come in there after you," he called, already tired of the game.

But it was indeed Ana once more. That girl didn't know when to quit. He dismissed her again, but then she took a swing at him. Then she jumped him.

Then she kissed him.

But it wasn't just a kiss. It was a desperate attempt to seduce him. It took him completely by surprise at first, and he just pulled away from her incredulously. Only seconds before that she'd been attacking him. Now she was kissing him.

In the split second of thought that ran through his brain between the first kiss and the second, he considered her unspoken proposition. Yes, she was in all likelihood going to barter sex for goodwill in hopes of talking him out of a gun. Yes, she still probably despised him. Yes, he still probably despised her.

But something she'd said earlier came back to him. She'd said that just because Jack was making time with his girlfriend, he shouldn't take it out on her. The thought of Kate and Jack together stung him. Then he wondered why he cared. Kate wasn't his girlfriend. She had chosen Jack. Again. Jack had snapped his fingers and she'd leaped to his side like a well-trained collie.

Fine. Good. He didn't need her.

But Ana was right there, willing, warm, female, and grabbing at him, pulling his shirt off him with animal abandon.

The instant he let himself really feel her touch, the moment he ran his hand beneath her shirt to the soft skin of her belly, he knew he was gone. How long had it been since he'd slept with a woman?

Well, he calculated, how long had they been on that damned island? And how many weeks before that had he spent in LA planning his trip to Australia, consumed by thoughts of vengeance? However long it had been, judging from his immediate reaction to her touch, it had been too long.

Now Ana pulled him closer into her arms, running her fingers over the bare skin of his back and pushing herself into him insistently. She kissed him again, teasing him with her tongue and clutching his hair.

He kissed her back, his heart pounding. All the anger, all the frustrations, all the bitterness of the past several weeks rolled up inside him into a tight ball of desire that grew in the pit of his stomach and rolled in his blood.

She continued to pull and scratch at him, part woman, part wildcat, and he knew that she felt the same way. Maybe she didn't even like him, but right that moment he knew she wanted something from him that only he could give her and it wasn't just a gun.

They clutched at each other, rolling over in the grass beside the stream, until she finally lay beneath him again, breathing heavily. He pulled away from her slightly, wondering if that was the moment she'd push him away, full of second thoughts.

But she didn't push him away. Instead, she reached in between them to unzip her jeans, sliding them off her hips and tossing them to the grass so that she lay completely naked beneath him. Then he wondered if he would be the one to push her away, full of second thoughts.

He studied her face for a long moment. Her dark eyes smoldered with desire, and her lips were full and red from the ferocity of her kisses. Her hair had come loose and fanned around her head like a dark cloud.

Then she ran her hand gently down his cheek and gave him a single, soft kiss.

With that kiss, something unwound inside him, a kind of relief. Ana knew what kind of man he was. If she wanted to be with him, it wasn't because he'd manipulated her into it. Whatever she was doing, it was because she wanted to do it, not because he'd conned her into feeling something for him.

For the first time in a very long time, maybe ever, a woman wanted him for him.

Suddenly he needed that honesty. Even if it was only for that moment, he needed to be with someone who knew him for who he really was. Maybe she despised him and maybe he despised her, but at least he knew what she wanted up front. She wanted a gun and he wanted to feel something, even if it was just for a moment.

He leaned on his elbow beside her and ran his hand down her neck and across her breast, then below to her belly and down her thigh. Little goosebumps sprang onto her skin at his touch and she sighed.

He knew how to make a woman ecstatic in bed. He knew more tricks than Harry Houdini. But Ana wouldn't let him. She pushed his hands away from her and began to work her own magic instead.

She used every tool in her bag to tease him and bring him right to the brink of explosion, only to pull back at the last second, prolonging his pleasure almost to the point of torture. Several times he started to just roll her over beneath him.

But whenever she slowed the pace, she would lie against him quietly, pressed skin to skin down the length of his body, her breath slowing in unison with his for just a moment. That feeling of closeness, of contact, was almost better than the actual sex.

Almost, he decided, as she gave him another deep kiss, then pushed him back onto the grass to straddle him. This time, she was out for her own pleasure as she moved against him, grabbing at his chest with her hands as she moaned and breathed, finally giving a low gasp of delight when her moment came.

He couldn't take it any longer and rolled over onto her. When the final waves of ecstasy crested, he felt like the ocean itself poured through him leaving him exhausted and spent. He fell beside her, trembling a little with the release.

The long length of her body lay entangled with his and he exulted in the feel of her, so soft, so warm, so giving. The stream bubbled peacefully beside them as the birds called overhead. A gentle wind blew across their naked bodies, cooling the fire that had burned between them.

His head rested on her shoulder, his arm thrown across the soft skin of her stomach. As he closed his eyes, just for a moment, he could feel her fingers playing gently in his hair. And in that moment, he felt at peace.

**(Well, I hope you guys aren't too scandalized! But the show cut all the good parts! I had to bring them back. Meanwhile, Eyeon, this was your happy story, or as happy as I could make it. Sorry it all goes downhill for a little while after this. But you know there's more happy to come because somewhere out there is a woman who will love our boy James for who he really is. And he'll have years to enjoy that. But in the meantime, Ana and Kate have to leave their mark. Ouch!**

**BTW, if you haven't checked out my blog at www dot arleycole dot blogspot dot com, I've done a bit of talking about writing this piece. Plus I now have a twitter account as arleycole. Please do follow me and I'll follow you back. I have no idea what I will tweet though! I guess I better start coming up with something to say. Let me know that you are reading Grace Period too! I'd love that!)**


	13. Chapter 13 Don't Be Cruel

(_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, it's good to be back in the saddle! Sorry this one is a bit on the short side, but I mostly just wanted to touch base with Sawyer's reaction to Ana and Libby's death, especially the way he talked to Hurley. I wasn't happy about that, so here you go with my spin on it. New chapters are written and should follow shortly. Meanwhile, thanks so much to all who are reading and reviewing. I just got another story accepted for publication by Musa Publishing and am hard at work on a novel for them. I can't do that work without the encouragement you guys give me to keep writing. So I owe these other works that are not fanfiction to all my fanic readers anyway! You are the best!)_

Chapter 13 Don't Be Cruel

"Class, get out your crayons. We're making a gift for your mothers for Mother's Day."

Jimmy's head snapped up from his book. The dusty blackboard and rows of rickety wooden desks sprang into view as his imaginary vision of Oz faded to be replaced by the classroom of his new school. He'd been in Tennessee a year, but the room still felt unfamiliar. He wasn't sure if he'd learned anything except where to find the library.

The teacher who stood in front of the class was even less familiar to him. His regular teacher Mrs. Thompson was out having a baby, and this substitute hadn't bothered trying to teach them anything in the past week. All they'd done was stupid art projects. Now she passed out blank pieces of cardstock and began giving instructions to the class to fold it in half and make a Mother's Day card.

Mother's Day. He'd forgotten it was coming up.

Jimmy stared at the blank paper. The whiteness burned into his eyes, causing them to water.

Next to him, a little girl named Cheryl whispered, "Just draw something. It doesn't matter what."

He carefully drew a vase of flowers and thought about maybe giving the card to Aunt Noreen.

"If you've finished the outside of the card, write a letter to your mother on the inside," the teacher instructed. "No getting away with a standard 'Happy Mother's Day'. I want to see some real effort."

Jimmy filled the vase with all the flowers he could draw, delaying the inevitable as the woman began to wander the room, answering questions and correcting spelling.

Jimmy opened the card and stared again at the blankness. Across the room, he heard Keith Davis whine, "I don't know what to write."

"Just start out 'Dear Mom' and tell her how you feel about her."

Jimmy tried very hard to write "Dear Aunt Noreen" at the top, but he had absolutely nothing to say to her. She wasn't exactly mean to him, but she wasn't exactly nice either. She kept him fed and washed his clothes, but she didn't love him.

His uncle loved him, but it wasn't Father's Day. Besides Uncle Doug wasn't his father either.

The empty white sheet said it best. Empty, gone, blank. But the teacher was coming around and he had to write something.

"Dear Mama," he began, then his hand began to shake. What could he write? How could he express the misery he felt every time he thought about her?

Next to him Cheryl had filled one side of her card and continued onto the other. He had to write something.

"Dear Mama," he read, whispering the words back to the card. What did he want to say to her? How did he feel?

Suddenly his hand began to move and the letters took shape. He wrote quickly and the crayon pressed against the card so heavily that it left heavy chips of purple on the paper.

He read back over what he'd written, his heart pounding.

_Dear Mama, I hate you. I hate Daddy too._

Cheryl glanced over at his card and gasped in shock. "Jimmy, don't say that!" she whispered urgently. "That's mean."

"Shut up," he snapped back at her. "Mind your own business." He rammed his crayons back into the box so hard that he broke the blue. The he folded the card up as small as he could and shoved it deep into his bookbag.

The bell mercifully rang before the teacher got to him and he dashed out the door to the bus, shoving aside any kid in his way.

The high schoolers always took over the back of the bus, sneaking cigarettes and talking dirty. Boldly he made his way into their midst.

"Move over," he demanded of one of them.

"Why, punk?" the guy retorted.

"Because I'll beat the shit out of you if you don't," Jimmy smarted back. "Now, move over, dumbass."

The boy stared at him in disbelief, then laughed and moved over. "Mean little cuss, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Jimmy agreed. "Give me the window."

- 0 –

She was dead.

He'd taken the guns to try to keep something like this from happening.

Damn Jack. He'd been keeping a prisoner in the hatch for days—weeks maybe—and had never said a word.

He'd have watched his gun way more carefully if he'd known Ana had a flesh and blood target.

Now she was dead.

Damn Ana. She'd played him for a fool again. Took it right off him for the second time. Spun his head so hard he never even knew it was missing.

He walked through the jungle, his head pounding, his thought crashing into one another angrily.

Damn Kate. She knew about all this and never said a word. She just ran off to play doctor with Jack, glad to be back in his good graces again.

He followed her as she headed down the path, her gun swaying at her back, her long braid swinging back and forth. Why hadn't she said something to him? If Kate had said something, maybe she wouldn't be dead right now.

Damn Hurley. He let her walk into that hatch knowing they had a prisoner. Now they were planning a beatdown on the folks who killed her and he didn't have the cohones to take a gun.

The big mad had only come when Jack asked. Not Michael, not Kate. He'd come when Jack asked him to. Sawyer had wanted to leave him behind. Hurley wasn't a fighter. He was a goof. A big, sweet, friendly, heartbroken goof and just looking at him made Sawyer want to scream.

He could still see the blood in her blonde hair, the pain in her face, the fear. He could still hear Hurley weeping softly. Jack had actually used her pain as leverage against him to get to the guns.

Damn Jack. Damn Hurley. Damn Kate. Damn Ana.

Damn them all for being such idiots.

And damn himself for not seeing it coming.

He jibed Hurley over the campfire, just at the big guy's lowest moment. He talked complete shit aliens in the jungle, letting his mouth run without benefit of his mind, snapping at Hurley again when he corrected him-pathetic-that's what they all were. He'd never made a more appropriate Freudian slip.

However, he sobered up quickly the minute Jack revealed the last part of the puzzle.

How had he not seen it coming? He'd believed Michael. He'd saved the man's life once and this was how he repaid that?

Libby was dead because Mike had killed her. Mike.

The knowledge took the wind out of him.

But before he could turn that shock into action, Mike said something that stopped him cold. These people on the other side of the island knew his name.

They had asked for James Ford-not Sawyer.

These people knew him. He considered grabbing Kate and Hurley and going back. He didn't care what kind of plan Jack and Sayid thought they had, a plan which they had not bothered to share with him.

He didn't trust Jack. He sure as hell didn't trust Mike.

Neither of them gave a rat's ass about him or Kate or Hurley. If they had, they would have come clean up front. Jack had his own axe to grind with the Others, and Mike would do anything—including kill Ana and Libby—to get Walt back.

Damn them both. Only curiosity kept him from declaring an end to their little expedition. How did these people know his name? What else did they know about him?

They passed a huge pile of plastic tubes filled with rolled up notebooks. The Dharma symbol decorated the outsides.

He looked around at the green, tropical field surrounding them, so beautiful, but so full of mystery and danger.

That was it. He was taking Kate and Hurley and getting them the hell out of there and back to the beach.

A sudden sting of pain in his neck prevented him from putting his plan into action. As the world spun around him, he saw Hurley gaping motionlessly in shock. He heard Kate call his name and he took a step toward her, then fell to the ground hard.

He watched through the grass as a dart struck her as well, glad Jack had the presence of mind to try to get her out of there. Then Jack took a hit of his own and the both of them went down in a crumpled heap.

Numbness began to spread throughout his body as the drug took effect.

Damn Jack. Damn Ana. Damn Michael.

Damn them all.


	14. Chapter 14 Kate

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Woohoo! I updated! The old Muse has been sluggish of late, but thanks to a re-injection of FUN into my writing life, I've actually gotten an original MS written, got another romantic story called "Storm Duty" to be out as Leigh Daley at Musa Publishing on October 12, and started yet another fanfiction piece called "You're in Good Hands" that unites Mayhem from the Allstate commercials with the pretty girl from the Werther's candy commercials. It's so weird how opening the door to write something just for fun, like "Grace Period" or this new piece, can open the creative doors to other writing. I blogged on this at www dot leighdaleywrites dot blogspot dot com in fact.

So I am absolutely back in the saddle with new chapters of "Grace Period." It turns out that writing more makes me write more – whatever that means. Do let me know you are out there. It means everything.)

Chapter 14

_Kate_

At some point later, he woke up on a hard surface. His wrists and shoulders ached, and saliva ran from his mouth into some kind of gag.

It was very dark as he forced his eyes to open, blinking away the grittiness that stung them.

He soon realized that the darkness resulted from a coarse hood over his head. Pinpricks of light shone through the holes, and the rough material scratched his cheek when he tried to move.

He heard a woman groan beside him. Kate. He twisted his head to try to get a fix on her proximity, but a heavy foot between his shoulderblades pinned him down.

"Now, now, James," a man's voice stated in a kindly tone. "Let's not start any of that."

James. Who the hell were these people? Nobody at that beach knew him as James Ford. Even when Hurley checked the flight manifest, he'd spun him a tale about Sawyer being his middle name and flashed the ID to prove it. He didn't pause in the flash long enough for Hurley to realize that his middle initial wasn't "S".

Nobody else on that beach had heard the name James Ford—until these people had written it on Michael's list. Wherever their information came from, the sources were good – and official.

When strong hands pulled him to his knees and the hood was jerked off his head, he blinked in the sudden wash of daylight, trying to focus on the faces before him. He knelt on a boatdock, surrounding by people dressed like refugees from the Beverly Hillbillies.

The beardwearing bastard that shot him stood before them, droning on about real names with another woman—Bea he called her. Sawyer filed the information away and tried to listen. Maybe these people weren't quite as united as they wanted the beach crew to believe.

Then a little man walked forward, looking like somebody had beaten the everliving crap out of him. Something told him this little man had once been their prisoner.

Just like Jack to have resorted to trying to beat the truth out him. If they'd been thinking, they'd have tossed Sawyer in the lockup with him on some theft charges. Then given time, Sawyer could have conned the truth out of him.

But no, Jack had to jump right into the direct approach.

Sawyer listened as the little man directed Mike ironically to the same boat that the Others had used to attack the raft.

Sawyer's only commentary had come when Tom—the gunslinging bastard's name turned out to be Tom—had turned his attention to Kate.

Sawyer would be damned if he stood by and let these people hurt Kate or Hurley. Neither of them had asked to be dragged into this mess.

When they let Hurley leave, he'd been filled with an unexpectedly strong sense of relief.

Hurley looked back at the three of them still kneeling bound on the dock and Sawyer did his best to will him away.

Go, he wanted to say. Go and do what they tell you. Don't come back here. Don't look for us. None of you know what you are dealing with here. These people aren't what they seem to be. They know who I am. Get out of here and don't come back.

He tried to rise to his feet when the woman they called Bea stepped forward with a seriously large syringe in her hand.

However, two of the other guys grabbed him by the shoulders and stepped on his calves, anchoring him firmly to the dock.

She swabbed the crook of his elbow with a cotton ball soaked in what smelled like alcohol. His eyes sought Kate's to reassure her as he heard Bea say to him, "Big sting."

As the needle punctured his vein, he wondered if executioners used that same warning of impending pain before they injected death row inmates.

The drug hit him immediately and he felt himself sag into the hands behind him. However, he was out before he ever hit the ground.

- 0 -

He woke some time later to find himself unbound and lying face down on a hard, cold bench. His head pounded and his mouth was dry. Birds called overhead and sunlight penetrated the canopy of leaves above him.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked at the bars surrounding him. Great. Prison again.

Well, if he knew how to do one thing, it was prison. Keep your head down, keep your eyes open, be agreeable. "Yes, boss," was the only phrase needed. Anything more was likely to get you beat, anything less was even more likely to get you beat.

Across the way, another cell held a young man. This young man apparently had not mastered "Yes, boss," because he looked like he'd been beat within an inch of his life.

On the back wall of the cage, a big button emblazoned with a spoon and fork beckoned to him. Animal conditioning? He wondered to himself as he pressed it. Despite the kid's warnings, he kept experimenting. Somebody had to do the hard stuff, the hard way.

The first shock threw him across the cage painfully and confirmed his theory. He certainly felt conditioned.

But before he could explore the contraption further, the young man, Karl, had sprung him.

His first thought was to hide, to find a vantage point to watch for Kate and Jack. But before he could get even that far, a slender blonde woman called his name.

"James," she said in a kindly voice. Her blue eyes held a hint of sympathy, but she tasered him nonetheless.

His muscles jerked spasmodically with the charge as he was knocked down for the third time that day. The last thing he saw before passing out again was the woman's face as she knelt over him to check his pulse, her fingers warm against his neck.

"Sorry," he thought he heard her whisper.

- 0 -

He had no idea how much later it was before he woke again in his cell. The other was now vacant. He sat there for a while, his aching head in his hands. His stomach growled and his throat was parched. The jungle began to spin around him as he fought back a wave of dizziness, catching himself against the bars of the cage.

Then he noticed that the button wasn't the only contraption in the cell. Animal conditioning? Problem solving? Hell, anything beat just sitting there and waiting for Blondie to come taser him again.

The melodic sounds of success sometime later paled in comparison to the sound of water flowing from the pipe before him and he drank deeply from the cold spring.

But even that sweet refreshment took a distant second to the sight of Kate being hustled into the opposite cage, disheveled but unharmed.

Interestingly enough, she was also wearing a flowered dress. She looked really pretty, he decided.

Damn Jack for getting her into this. If the doc had just asked him, he would have willingly gone on this mission. If Mike had just told him the truth, he would have given out the guns and been happy to help him get Walt back.

But they'd both kept secrets from him and had dragged Kate and Hurley along into their private vendetta as well. In his opinion, it was just as much Jack's fault as Mike's that Ana and Libby were dead. It was just as much Jack's fault that Hurley was wandering through the jungle alone, heartbroke.

But he'd be damned himself if he was going to let these people hurt Kate. Jack might have gotten her into this, but by God, he was going to get her out.

Kate was going to get out of here, safe and sound, even if it killed him—or Jack.

- 0 –

The big man – Danny Pickett he had determined early on – clearly had a serious vendetta going against him. He had to wonder if maybe Pickett had been the other one following them – the one Sawyer hadn't picked off.

But Sawyer hadn't figured out why the blonde woman kept staring at him. He studied her out of the corner of his eye, watching all them as he and Kate hauled rocks in the field.

Blondie looked at him with this inscrutable gaze, as if she were trying to see through him. Any other time, he'd have milked that curiosity for information, or made a move on her leggy self to see if her guard would slip a little. But these days he was fresh out of patience and her interest in him only pissed him off.

When she tossed him the canteen, he contemptuously poured it out on the ground even though his throat was raw with thirst. Instead of making her angry however, the gesture only amused her and she gave him a smile—almost of camaraderie as if she approved of his attitude.

That flew all over him as Mama Cherie used to say and he did the first thing that came to mind. Kate had been a thing of beauty all morning long, swinging that pickaxe in her ridiculous dress.

Now, he looked over at her and a rush of protectiveness coupled with pure rebellion coursed through him. In three steps he'd crossed the field to her, spun her around and planted a very sincere, very passionate kiss right on her lips.

The beatdown that followed was both expected and oddly welcome, giving him a chance to gauge the combat abilities of their captors, as well as indulge in a little beatdown of his own.

"James!" that blonde called his name again and he heard something in her voice that made him stop short.

She had Kate at gunpoint and - in that cool, kindly tone she did so well - instructed him, "James, put the gun down. Put the gun down."

She meant it too. He had no idea why he was so convinced of her sincerity that he should stand down, but he could see in her eyes she meant business. Later on, he told Kate the blonde would have shot her, but that was only shorthand for what he really meant.

The blonde woman was desperate and serious on a level he did not understand. She meant business all right. Whether she would have shot Kate, he did not know. But he couldn't shake the tickling feeling that she was warning him about much more than just that moment.

When the men had knocked him out—for the fourth time in just over a day for God's sake—he asked himself if it had been worth it.

Waking in his cell with Kate asking over and over if he was okay assured him that yes, it had been worth it.

He'd get her out of there, by God. He'd get her away from these crazy people with their mysterious agendas and their chain gang.

-0-

Unfortunately, plots to escape were easy to formulate but difficult to execute, thanks to an apparently still working surveillance system.

The Napoleon-sized leader had heard every word, damn it. Ben heard and acted. Decisively.

He rubbed at his aching head, then at the very sore incision on his chest. In another life, he might have been tempted to doubt the little man's story about the pacemaker.

But nothing on that damned island made any sense. Nothing about these damned people made any sense.

And having been impaled through the sternum by that big ass needle, he was a lot less likely to doubt these people than he normally would have been.

Now his chest hurt, his head hurt, he was bruised all over, and he was starving.

But Kate was safe. She was tired but unhurt, and he'd tell her anything, he'd do anything to keep her that way.

Just the sight of her changing her clothes out of that silly dress, now torn and filthy from roadwork, made his heart pound alarmingly. It wasn't just that her skin was so beautiful to see. The thing that got to him was how whole she was, but how delicate.

If they wanted to destroy him, they only had to touch that soft, unblemished skin. They'd threatened to hurt her if he tried to escape again. They'd threatened to cut into her too if he said anything.

Until he had a better plan, a plan that wouldn't risk her, he wouldn't take any chances. He growled at her to put some clothes on, rubbing at his chest, knowing they had him. They owned him as long as they had Kate in their power. He'd never felt so helpless in his life.

- 0 –

It got worse.

He'd lost track of the number of times these lunatics had decided to beat him up for no reason whatsoever.

He'd been through some tough times; he'd taken some hard licks before from some really bad thugs.

But the beating Danny Pickett gave him hurt worse than any beating he'd ever taken before. Until that moment, his life had never been threatened in order to hurt someone else.

Every blow that landed on Sawyer's face was meant for Kate.

Because of that, he took it. He let the man pound on him without resisting, knowing if he fought back, they'd hurt her too. That stupid heart monitor shrieked in his ears but he ignored it. If he died, he died.

But he wouldn't risk putting Kate in their path by fighting back. He could take whatever they dished out as long as they left her alone. He hated Pickett that moment more passionately than he'd hated anyone in a very long time.

"Do you love him?" Picket shouted, punctuating every word with a heavy blow to his face. He felt his eyes closing and his lip swelling, but he strained to hear her answer.

She pled for him, she reached through the bars and wrapped her arms around him, begging Pickett to stop. But she wouldn't say the words.

He knew why Pickett needed to know. They'd killed Pickett's wife—they'd taken away the only person that mattered to him. Now Pickett wanted to make sure, damned sure that he mattered to Kate before Pickett finished him off.

Kate's painful cry, "Yes, I love him! I love him!" sealed the deal.

It was right then that Sawyer knew he was going to die. As they dragged him back across the clearing to his cell, half-conscious, he didn't care what they did to him.

If he could stay strong long enough to keep them away from her, if his death would satisfy them, he could take it, knowing that he was the sacrifice the island demanded in order for her to live.

- 0 –

Later on, Ben took him to the top of the hill, his heart pounding dangerously with the exertion of the climb. He stood next to the little man and looked across the narrow strait to the main island.

From the peak of the hill, he could see the ocean all around them and he knew Ben was telling the truth—at least about Hydra Island. He and Kate were trapped.

"A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody. It don't make no difference who the guy is, long as he's with you. I tell you, I tell you a guy gets too lonely and he gets sick." Ben droned behind him and he barely even heard him, having stopped listening several seconds before when Ben started in on how good a conman he was.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped. Then he realized what Ben had been saying.

He didn't need Ben to tell him what Kate meant to him. The sick feeling inside of him told him everything he needed to know.

On the way down again, he took off the heart monitor and threw it as hard as he could over the nearest bluff.

He'd die to keep her safe. He had no idea what game these people were playing and it pissed him off to no end that he was only a pawn in the greater scheme of things. But even a pawn had a part to play, and maybe his part was to die.

He walked back into his cell willingly, knowing that death was coming for him once again on that island.

He'd stared death down the first time as the plane came apart around him; he'd stared it down as the polar bear had attacked; and he'd stared it down delirious with fever in the hatch.

But this time, if he died, it would mean something, it would be for a reason. If he died this time, it would be so that she could live.

She told him that Pickett was coming to kill him. She begged him to run away with her, but he knew there was no place to go.

So he begged her to save herself. Maybe they wouldn't notice that she'd gone if he pretended to talk to her all night. Maybe if Pickett still had him to kill in the morning, they wouldn't bother to chase Kate right away. That could give her time to steal a boat or find a floating log to use as a raft.

But instead of running away from her cage, she joined him in his.

He hadn't meant to kiss her again, but he couldn't help it. Everything about her was precious to him, worth saving, worth holding onto.

She melted into his arms so freely, all her previous hesitation gone. They peeled away the barriers that lay between them and clung to each other.

In her, he found what he needed and it rocked him to know just how badly he needed it.

He needed her to choose him and not Jack, to stay with him and not leave him, to take him into her and hold him tight. She was so strong and so beautiful, but so soft and so warm in his arms.

Kate was passion itself and irrepressible life. Now she was his - if only until morning.

-0 -

The words 'I love you' had rolled easily off his lips more times than he could count because he had never meant it. He'd never loved anybody before.

Now the words were so hard for him, and he knew how it would tear at someone like Kate to say it out loud. But before they came for him, before the end he knew was coming, he had to know. Had she meant it when she'd told Pickett she loved him?

So he asked her. He offered her the out, the chance to say she was just playing along with Pickett, that her heart wasn't in it. As he waited for her answer, he felt like a teenager after his first encounter in the back seat of a car, wondering if he'd done the right thing, desperate for some validation.

When her reply came as a kiss rather than the words he needed to hear or the denial he feared, he took her kiss as reassurance.

He knew he was pushing his luck, but he couldn't help it. He wanted her to love him with everything he had. He wanted that feeling to be real, to be something he could hang onto.

All the same, his "I love you too" came out so easily, so flippantly, so casually. It sounded to his ears as if he didn't mean it at all, but his heart practically burst through his chest as he said it-and meant it for the first time since he was a very little boy.

He knew then for certain that Ben's pacemaker had indeed been a bluff.

Pulling Kate even closer into his arms, he kissed her hair. He didn't know whether he would live to noon the next day. He didn't know if they would ever get off that damned island.

But as he held her, he knew he wanted this to be real. He wanted her to love him. He wanted to hear her say the words—someday.


	15. Chapter 15 Life's a Bitch Then You Die

Chapter 15 - Life's a Bitch. And Then You Die

_Flashforward_

"_So you're finally going to do it, huh?" Miles hung over the side of the bartop and stared at him in that piercing way he had. "You're finally going to pop the question." _

_Jim turned the ring over in his fingers and nodded. "Yep. Gonna do it." _

_Miles laughed out loud, then walked over to clap him on the shoulder. "I think you should. You'll make a much better husband than you are a boyfriend."_

_Jim couldn't help but go after just a little further confirmation. After all, this was a huge step and not something he took lightly, not in the least. "You think she'll go for it? You think she'll say yes?" _

"_Yeah," Miles replied in an encouraging tone. "You've been through a lot together the past few years. She'll say yes." Then he glanced outside the window. "But unless you want to do it right now, you'd better stash that. She's coming."_

_Jim caught a flash of blonde shining in the sunshine outside the window and quickly popped the ring back in the box and the box deep in his pocket. "No offense, Miles, but I think I want to plan something a little more romantic than this." _

_Miles laughed again. Jim had to admit Miles had been the best friend he'd never had. It would be nice to actually have a best man. _

_And he had to agree. He wasn't much of a boyfriend. _

The morning after Kate escaped into his cage, he awoke to both the best and the worst feeling in the world. She still lay in his arms, but she was shaking him awake and calling his name fearfully.

Pickett had come calling, his eyes bloodshot, his hands shaking. Even though Sawyer did his best to get the drop on him and would have blown his brains out given the opportunity, he couldn't help but sympathize. After last night, he knew better than he ever had before just what fueled the man's desire to splatter his brains all over the jungle.

It still wasn't exactly fair to pick Sawyer out as his victim, seeing as how he had nothing to do with killing the man's wife, but all the same, he knew that if someone hurt Kate, he'd be spoiling for the exact same kind of mindless revenge.

When the other one, Jason, put his gun to Kate's head, Sawyer knew it was over. Kate begged him to fight and her pleas tore a hole right through him. He absolutely did not want to die in front of her. But even more strongly, he did not want them to kill her too.

So he let Pickett lead him out into the path and he knelt down, knowing that this was the last thing he would ever do, knowing this was the most selfless thing he'd ever done.

His entire life to this point had been one long self-serving search for vengeance. He'd taken and cheated and lied and even killed to try to fill some kind of crazy void in his life. But at this moment he was giving it all away. Pickett was free to do what he needed to do as long as it meant that Kate escaped harm.

"I'll do anything," she pleaded.

"I want you to watch," Pickett demanded.

"Close your eyes, Freckles!" Sawyer couldn't let her see. She couldn't watch him die. "You close your eyes!"

Sawyer looked up at Danny Pickett, man to man. The man's face was grim, his eyes were full of pain. Sawyer stared up at him with an unspoken demand-_you take this from me, this thing that you need, but you leave her alone_.

Pickett stared back down at him, then gave him the slightest of nods. Sawyer knew that this ended it. When he was dead on the ground, it would be over. Pickett wouldn't be going after Kate next.

With that assurance, he turned away and closed his eyes to wait for the bullet. He was done staring down death. This time, he wasn't just ready for it to come get him. If it meant that she would be safe, that maybe she'd someday get off that damned island, he welcomed it.

But before the hammer fell, a voice crackled from the walkie talkie.

Jack.

Jack was bargaining for their lives. But instead of exulting that maybe he would live, all Sawyer could hear was the distress in Kate's voice.

"I can't leave you! I can't. I can't," she repeated. With the same despair that she'd begged for Sawyer's life, she now pleaded with Jack.

And he knew.

He knew how it stood between them. Maybe she loved Sawyer, maybe she did. But she loved Jack too. Maybe more. If it had been the other way around and Sawyer was the one telling her to run away with Jack and leave him behind, maybe she wouldn't have hesitated. Maybe she would have run without a backwards glance.

When the tables turned and he had Danny Pickett in his hands, he took out his frustration by pounding the man's head against the bars so hard and so long that Kate had to pull him away.

They ran then right into a weird sort of rescue. Sheena of the jungle drafted them into a rescue on the fly of her boyfriend Karl, who they found in some kind of brainwashing room.

Animal conditioning and brainwashing. What kind of place was this? Sawyer had to wonder. He couldn't help but stop and stare at the pictures and hear the sounds blaring out of the speakers. Even without the use of mind-altering drugs, he could feel the pull of the place, the energy dragging him into itself.

"God loves you as he loves Jacob," the screen flashed. Something about the name Jacob stopped him. Who the hell was Jacob?

Kate shook him and they ran again, this time into that blonde. Juliet. Blondie was going to help them escape. Would wonders never cease?

A furious Danny Pickett cornered them on the beach. Kate ran toward Sawyer-to protect him?—but Juliet was the one to shoot the man and save his life. Tossing the unconscious Karl and the reluctant Kate into Sheena's canoe, he cast a brief look back to the beach where the woman stood with Alex as he paddled into the surf.

Apparently Ben's daughter was the leader of the rebel alliance and now Juliet was a traitor. He couldn't help but wonder just how they'd get out of it. Then the pair disappeared back into the jungle and Sawyer turned his face to the journey before them. Juliet's fate wasn't his concern. Whatever happened, happened.

- 0 –

_1981_

_The night air hung chilly and damp over the parking lot. Was she coming? He kept gazing down the street that led to her house, stomping his feet and swinging his arms to keep warm. He glanced back at the dirtbike he'd stolen from his cousin Mike. Hell, Mike was at his mom's and had been for a long time. He never came to visit Uncle Doug anymore, except at the hospital right at the end. He sure wouldn't miss a dirtbike he hadn't touched in years. _

_One thing was for sure, he'd freeze on that thing before he ever got to Nashville. _

_An old pickup weaved down the road toward the school parking lot. He recognized it at once. Cheryl parked it crookedly a few spaces away and got out, her face pale in the streetlights. _

"_What's going on, Jimmy?" she asked. _

"_You did pretty good driving that truck," he commented, leaning back onto the dirtbike. He knew he had to play it cool. _

"_Yeah, my dad will kill me if he finds out I took it. I never tried to drive by myself before," Cheryl laughed nervously. "So what's up?" _

"_Did you bring them?" _

"_Yeah, but why do you want my dad's coveralls?" _

_She pulled out a pair of khaki insulated coveralls, the really tough kind. Perfect for riding in the cold through the mountains. _

"_Thanks," he said and took them from her outstretched hand. "I gotta long ride. It'd get pretty cold and I didn't have anything else." _

"_Where are you going?" she asked incredulously. "You can't leave." _

_He sighed and shook his head. "I got no choice, Cheryl. I got no place to go now that Uncle Doug's gone." _

_She tried to argue with him, but he just stepped into the heavy jumpsuit and zipped it up. It was a little big, but nothing he couldn't handle. Then he reached for the backpack he'd brought along. The old canvas knapsack weighed a ton since he'd packed it full of food. His only personal possessions weren't heavy- just three old books and a deck of cards he'd had for a thousand years. _

_Everything he'd brought with him to Knoxville was leaving with him. Nothing else but the clothes on his back really belonged to him anyway as Aunt Noreen had always subtly reminded him. But he knew his uncle hadn't felt that way and wouldn't begrudge him the two hundred dollars he'd taken from Doug's coffee can bank the night his uncle died. He knew that would be all he'd see of any kind of inheritance. He just hoped he could make it last. _

_Cheryl stood there shivering beside the dirtbike, her blonde hair glowing in the yellow glare of the parking lot lamps like a halo around her head. Junior prom was coming up. Before Uncle Doug got sick, he'd planned to ask his uncle for the money to rent a tux and buy her a flower. He was going to ask her to go, to be his date. _

_But that wasn't going to happen now. So instead he reached into the backpack and pulled out a cassette tape. Before he lost his nerve, he passed it to her. _

_She turned it over in her fingers and he could read the label. _Cheryl's Mix_. _

"_What's this?" she asked. _

"_Just some songs I thought you'd like. I had to record most of them from the radio, so they sound kind of crappy," he shrugged. _

"'_Don't Fear the Reaper'? Jimmy, that song is about committing suicide." The disapproval in her voice didn't match the tears that sprang to her eyes. "You're not thinking about doing something stupid, are you?" _

_He blinked twice, taken aback. No, he hadn't even considered it. He'd put that song on there because he wanted her to know he was okay with Doug dying. That sometimes death came for you like it did his mom and dad. That he was okay if it came for him. _

_But the words wouldn't come. A sudden rush of grief fell over him in a crushing load. He didn't want to leave. He wanted to go home, go to school, go to prom. But all that was gone and he was on his own. He was alone. Tears threatened to overrun his eyes and he reacted the only way he could to prevent them. _

"_If you don't want the damned tape, you don't have to take it," he snapped at her. _

"_No, I want it," she stammered, clenching the tape tightly in her fingers. Then she started to cry. _

_Some boyfriend he turned out to be. He couldn't even bring himself to kiss her goodbye. So he jumped onto the kickstart, and the bike's engine roared to life. _

"_Jimmy!" she called to him as he pulled away, the cold wind tearing at his hair and making water stream from his eyes. Or that was what he told himself all the way to Rockwood._

They made the mainland, but every three steps Kate took, she wanted to go back. No matter how many times he reiterated that Jack had told her not to come back for him, that if they went back they'd be shot on sight, she still wanted to go back for him.

He'd told Karl during his early morning emotional breakdown that if Alex was worth loving, she was worth going back for. But he never dreamed Kate would do the same thing. All she wanted to do was go back for Jack.

So he decided to let her off the hook. Give her an out. Call her bluff.

"Don't take it out on me because you feel guilty," he declared.

She denied feeling guilty of course. Then her thoughts – as usual - went to Jack.

"I'm not talking about leaving Jack behind. I'm talking about you and me. I know you did it because you thought I was dead man. So don't beat yourself because the Doc's left behind."

"I'm not beating myself up," she retorted.

More than anything, he'd wanted her to object, to assure him that she slept with him because she cared about him, because she wanted to be with him. However, she wouldn't agree with him and take her out, but she wouldn't deny it either. Tension hung between them as heavy as the island humidity all the way back.

Five minutes from camp she offered him a clean slate. A do-over. Just apologize.

His mouth ran a cover while his brain processed her offer.

Apologize for what? The way he saw it, all he'd done was take what she'd offered him. All he'd done was offer up his life for her safety. All he'd done was just exactly what the doc asked them to do. Leave and never come back.

All he'd done was love her.

And just how clean a slate did she want? Did she want to pretend it never happened? He'd been party to plenty of those in the past.

He'd been the revenge lay for any number of women who only slept with him because they were pissed off at their husbands. He'd been the substitute lay for those who wanted to be with somebody else but took him to their beds because he was handy.

But not until then had he been a mercy lay. He'd never slept with someone who was doing it just because she felt sorry for him.

But even that suspicion sliding through his brain wasn't enough to keep him from wanting to touch her again, wanting to feel her beside him, wanting her to turn to him and say that she loved him, that she'd chosen him at last.

But they hit camp and parted in silence. Discovering the loss of his scotch – the bottle he was counting on to dull the pain - sent him over the edge looking for someone to blame for the turmoil inside him.

Hurley had found a Dharma VW van of all things in the jungle. And Sawyer had returned from that day of insane adventure with the big guy, Jin, and Charlie, in a much better frame of mind. He waltzed back into camp bearing a sixpack of thirty year old beer as a peace offering. He looked all over for her, but she was gone.

Kate, Sayid, and Locke had gone back to the other side of the island to look for Jack. At least she'd had the sense to take Batman and Robin as backup.

Days passed as he looked for her every day. Time after time he fought back the urge to go after her himself, but he didn't. What would he say to her? Please come back with me again? Please choose me?

Kate had made her choice.

But when she walked back into camp, safe and sound, he couldn't help but throw himself on her, holding her closely. She was safe. Sure Jack had come back too, but she was what mattered.

The fact that the blonde had joined them as well didn't sit too good with him. She'd shot one of her own people for him, but that fact only made him more suspicious of her loyalties.

"So does Jack know . . . about us?" he asked Kate in private later that day, trying to get a feel for the current situation.

"Yeah, he saw us on the monitor," she replied grimly.

That explained the coldness he was getting from the doc. But knowing that Jack was at least a little bit out of the picture made him giddy with relief and he made the very crass offer of a quick bit of afternoon delight.

She of course turned him down, but with a laugh at his offer of a mix tape.

And he turned the camp upside down looking for one.

"_Take a look at me now/'cause there's just an empty space./And there's nothing left here to remind me/just the memory of your face./Take a look at me now/'cause I'll still be standing here/and your coming back to me is against all odds and that's what I've got to face_," he sang to himself when he found it.

Well, if _The Best of Phil Collins _was all he could find to give her, "Against All Odds" pretty much said everything. He watched her watch Jack and Juliet all afternoon with a feeling that her coming back to him was absolutely against the odds. Her eyes never left the laughing pair all afternoon.

To his surprise she showed up in his tent that night, all hot and bothered.

"What? My doorbell busted again?" Then she jumped him. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shut up and don't talk."

She kissed him and he felt the tears on her cheeks. "You crying?"

"I said shut up." Then her tongue slipped into his mouth and her hand gripped him tightly, causing the blood to rush out of his head and go elsewhere.

"You got it," he found words to answer breathlessly, but his mind was no longer on talking. Maybe afterward, he could hold her close and ask her what was wrong. He could be there for her like a good boyfriend should.

However, he hadn't gotten his breath back before she'd crawled free of his embrace and slipped back into her jeans. "Goodnight, Sawyer," she breathed as she lifted the tent flap.

"What?"

A look flickered over her face, but in the darkness he couldn't read it. She turned back to him and kissed him softly then repeated more firmly, "Goodnight."

He got the truth out of Jack the next day. Kate had come to sleep with him because she was jealous of Juliet. Jack was giving her the cold shoulder and she'd come running to Sawyer for comfort.

Shit. Knowing the truth only made it worse. But he wasn't born yesterday. It wasn't like he couldn't take it. Besides, Jack wasn't even interested in Juliet, no matter what kind of signals the blonde was sending his way.

Jack wasn't interested in anybody but himself. He was pissed off that his trip off the island had been spoiled by Kate's misguided rescue attempt. He was consumed by foiling the Others' plans to undermine their little beachside community.

No matter how often Kate slept with Sawyer right under Jack's nose, Jack wasn't going to suddenly run forward and spirit her away in a rush of jealousy.

But knowing he was first runner-up didn't stop him from taking what he could get.

Hell, his track record with women was so bad, it only made sense that he'd fall in love with a woman who'd use him for her own ends. He deserved it. He had it coming.

So he tried to be a good sport about it. He tried to be the boyfriend who gave her some room, let her find herself. Maybe in the end she'd find him instead.

"Go on then, get outta here," he teased as she got up to go back to her own tent. He could make the hard calls. He was tough enough for both of them.

- 0 –

A day later, he vomited uncontrollably outside the hull of the Black Rock.

He threw up in the grass and sat back, shaking. He'd been stripped bare. Every lie he ever told himself about who he was, every dream of vengeance he'd ever dreamed, had all come down to a moment in the dark hull of an antique sailing ship where he'd wrapped a chain around a man's neck and murdered him where he sat.

His hands were red still from the bite of the links into his own skin. His heart still pounded with the fury that had run through him.

Locke, damn him to hell, came out of the wreck of the ship looking like he'd done the deed himself. "You can go back now," was all the man had to say.

He'd taken Locke's tape recorder, full of evidence that their resident Other was a spy. A strong sense of gratification surged in him as the tape verified his concerns about her. Then he couldn't help but feel anxious about the big reveal at camp.

Would Jack turn on Juliet like he'd turned on Kate so many times before? Would he go running to Kate as his confidante and jungle buddy? How fast would Kate run back to his side?

He pulled himself together enough to walk painfully back to camp. His feet bled and ached, but he ignored the misery as a kind of penance for his sins-not the sin of killing the man who'd ruined his life, but the sin of becoming that same man.

Everything he knew about himself had changed. Everything he wanted out of his life had transformed. He felt like his identity itself was in pieces.

Locke had been calling him James for the past day. No one called him James—not even his mother had called him that.

No one called him James but Locke and Juliet because they knew the truth. They'd read his file and knew every sordid, criminal act he'd ever committed. They knew the complete truth about him. He felt sick.

His name wasn't Sawyer and after today, he'd never be able to call himself that again. He absolutely was not Sawyer.

But James Ford didn't know who he was anymore.

Maybe they were in hell, he considered. That would explain a lot.

After hours of walking, he could hear the pounding of the surf and he knew he was home. All he wanted was to find Kate. He just wanted to be with her, to hold her until all the chaos in his brain went away, until he could tell her what had happened in the jungle.

But she wasn't there.

He'd been gone for over a day and nobody even noticed.

She hadn't even noticed.


	16. Chapter 16 Daddy Belongs to My Heart

Chapter 16 Daddy Belongs to My Heart

_Flashforward_

_"Daddy!" a high-pitched voice called. He looked across the playground to where Clementine and Aaron dangled by the knees from the monkeybars. Both waved like little idiots and he did the same. _

_Kids. _

_-0-_

"And I'm not pregnant," Kate declared firmly just before she slapped him in the face and walked out the door. Back to Jack.

How the hell had it come to that? When had she suddenly got so hung up on having a baby?

And when had he turned his face firmly against the idea?

-0-

Hurley and Charlie pulled up in the Dharma van with grins on their faces so wide you'd think they won the lottery, not started a broken down old VW vanagon.

They rode around across the hillsides, whooping it up like idiots, Sawyer and Jin hanging on for dear life in the back seat. But the gas wasn't going to last forever, and they decided it was better to leave as much in the tank as they could – "Just in case," Hurley declared, even though Sawyer couldn't imagine any scenario on that island that would require motor vehicle support.

Hurley paused at the edge of camp as Charlie and Jin bailed out. "Hang on just a second there, Hoss," Sawyer declared as Hurley started to pull away again. "I'm going to load up some of these beers."

"Charlie looked happy, didn't he?" Hurley asked as Sawyer dragged loose beers from under the seat and attempted to make some kind of order of them.

"I guess so. Why?"

"Well, Desmond told him he was going to like, you know, die. That's a real bummer," Hurley declared. "He's been worried about if he did, what would happen to Claire and Aaron without somebody to take care of them."

"Nothing's going to happen to Charlie," Sawyer assured him gruffly.

"But if it did, Aaron would have to grow up without a dad." Hurley's voice held a sad depth Sawyer hadn't heard from him before. "I did. It's not fun to be without a dad."

Flashes of his own childhood flickered across the front of his imagination, but Sawyer firmly pushed them away. "Well, it ain't like Charlie is Aaron's daddy anyway. Aaron already ain't got no daddy."

Hurley just looked at him in disbelief.

"But Charlie aint' gonna die, Hugo," Sawyer tried to turn it around just a little for the big man's benefit. "He and Claire are gonna get off this damned island and get them a nice house in Las Vegas or something. Aaron will be just fine."

Hurley tried to nod, but it never quite reached full movement. "Dude, I'm going to stash the van. We might need it. But I'll leave it unlocked so you can get the rest of the beer later," he offered.

Sawyer agreed and tucked a sixpack under his arm.

Back at camp, he watched Jin kiss his wife and place a possessive hand on her belly. Then he watched as Charlie took Aaron and planted a big kiss on his head before putting his arm around Claire.

Kate was nowhere to be found. She'd set off on a "rescue Jack" mission with Locke and Sayid.

So he drank his beers alone and tried not to watch the happy families at play across the camp.

-0-

Hurley actually showed up for the rescue in that damned Dharma van. "Looks like it came in handy after all," Sawyer commented softly to himself once the shooting was over.

He looked down at the man on the ground that he'd killed. Tom. Juliet knew him. Now she was digging his grave. Maybe she felt bad at having helped off the guys who were gearing up to kill Sayid, Jin, and Bernard. The guys who'd come to kidnap Kate because she might be having his baby.

He popped the top on his beer and let her dig. For all he cared their bodies could rot on the beach.

These people were so damned certain he'd knocked Kate up. What if they were right? He'd kept her from going back to the beach with him for that very reason. He didn't want her in danger and the thoughts that she might have his baby inside her made his heart race with an untamable fear.

He'd watched Jin go from slightly disinterested husband to panicked father-to-be over the past few weeks. Now that Sawyer was potentially in his shoes, he understood the reason for the man's current state of overprotective anxiety.

But with all the Others dead on the beach, the mood was light. They'd won.

Then Desmond came back alone.

-0-

At the confrontation at the nose wreckage, Sawyer wasn't a bit surprised when Claire followed Hurley into Locke's camp. Watching the big man sob against the tiny girl's shoulder, he couldn't help but notice that Claire looked shellshocked. She held Aaron against her chest and rocked back and forth.

Given the choice in leaders put before him, he almost headed into the jungle on his own. He tried reading Kate, but finally decided he couldn't follow her and she probably wouldn't follow him. Baby or no baby, she was going to do what she was going to do. In fact, if she thought he was trying to protect her, she'd probably run harder.

He hated the sight of John Locke, but the man's plan to fortify their position in New Otherton sounded logical. However, he made up his mind as he watched Claire's face start to crumble under the weight of her loss. Even little Aaron started to cry as if he knew he was fatherless again. Hurley practically sagged against her even as he tried to comfort her.

Leaving the rest of the gunslingers behind, Sawyer fell in with Locke's sad little group, surprised that Desmond didn't join them.

-0-

He was past surprised when Kate did.

He was even more surprised that she considered his offer to set up housekeeping. The past 24 hours in an actual house had spoiled him already and he was more than happy to make room in his bed for her.

But she declared her independence early on and moved in with Claire. He tried to play it off, but couldn't help watching her come and go. And when she explained her plot to spring Mr. Miyagi from the boathouse for a one-on-one with Ben, he fell in without hesitation. He knew what she wanted to know. He'd planted the seed himself when he reminded her of what waited for them back in civilization.

But the blonde Other doctor they'd adopted had been so damned certain that pregnant women died on that island. If he got Kate pregnant, would she die? Claire had been so sick only a couple of days ago. If Kate was going to have his baby, would the Others help her too? Could they help her?

And God only knew what they'd do with a tiny baby in this place. It was a miracle Aaron was still with them. He looked out his window onto the playground — a playground for crying out loud – where Claire sat with Aaron in her arms in one of the swings. She looked like she'd been crying again. He went to the door and actually had his hand on the knob before he realized he had no idea what to say to her.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered to himself and went to see what Hurley wanted to do for dinner. He only had an hour or so before he had to go distract Locke.

-0-

He woke the next morning to the wonderful sensation of Kate in his arms, kissing him awake. She'd actually stayed with him the entire night. A spectacular vista of many mornings like this spread before him. Locke couldn't throw her out. This was his house. He'd make sure she was safe here.

He moved on her, fueled by delight in her presence and a readiness to begin playing house in earnest.

She'd stayed with him the entire night.

When she rebuffed him, at first he was utterly mystified. What did she expect him to do? Live with her like brother and sister? Then the specter of Juliet's warning ran through him. Kate was afraid she might be pregnant. She needed space to deal with that before she could be with him.

Hell, the best way to deal with it was to just get it out there in the open.

"All right. You still think you might be pregnant," he ventured.

She wasn't. He could tell from her voice she was certain she wasn't.

She wasn't going to die because he knocked her up. She wasn't going to have his baby in the jungle chased by smoke monsters and gun-toting Others.

Relief flooded him and he let out a whoop of joy.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"Horace and Amy are going to have a baby," Juliet announced quietly over lunch. "The sub brought back the lab report today." _

_James grinned from ear to ear. "Old Horace is going to be a daddy! That's fabulous! He'll probably pass out in the delivery room." _

_"I don't know, James." He heard concern in her voice. "All the pregnant women on this island have died." _

_"No, they haven't, sweetheart," he replied. "Kathy and Bill had a very healthy little boy. Not to mention baby Miles down the street. And Charlotte was born here only a few years ago." _

_"But they were all born off the island," Juliet sighed. "What if something happens and Amy can't get on the sub?" _

_"I don't think Horace is going to take that chance," James assured her, reaching across the table to take her fingers in his. "I know I wouldn't." _

_She looked at him then, long and hard. "What if I got pregnant?" _

_A sudden thrill of hope ran through him. Was she? _

_She quickly shot that idea down. "I'm not. I swear I'm not. But what if I did? Would that be a bad thing?"_

_He rose from the table and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Hell, no. It would be a wonderful thing. I can't think of anything that would be better." _

_Just then his radio crackled as his hip. "LaFleur," came Dr. Chang's imperious voice. _

_"I better go see what the big boss needs," he groaned. "Tell Horace and Amy congrats for me if you see them." _

_Juliet nodded and gave his a weak little smile. _

_He cupped her face in his fingers and looked her straight in those blue eyes. "We've got a good life here, Blondie. Don't you worry about the future. If it happens, it happens. It'll be great." He gave her another squeeze and a quick kiss, then headed out the door. _

_-0-_

"Would it have been the worst thing in the world?" Kate asked him.

As usual his mouth ran much faster than his common sense and he couldn't help but blurt out, "Yes! Yes, it would have been the worst thing in the world. What would we have done with a baby?"

But instead of seeing reason, instead of seeing his concern for her, she jumped up and began to pull on her clothes.

"I'm going back to the beach," she declared.

He suddenly grew furious with her. "Beach? What, you're leaving? Because of this? That's that? You crawl up in my bed one second, and the next you just –"

"Goodbye, James." She threw his real name at him like an accusation. Like he'd done something wrong by taking her in, by caring about her.

"Don't make this about me, Kate," he snapped. "You didn't want a baby any more than I did. You're just looking for some excuse to split, and now you got one." The truth poured out of him, the words practically burning his mouth as he uttered them aloud. "But it's all right, Freckles, I ain't gonna hold it against you. I'm just gonna sit right here in my comfy bed. Because in about a week, you'll find some reason to get pissed at Jack and bounce right back to me."

Then she'd slapped him.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_He barely glanced up as Kate left the boatdock. It wasn't the first time she'd left him in Dharmaville. Old news. He figured she'd go back to Jack where she belonged. _

_Finally he knew why she came back. He'd spent so much of his last days with Juliet wondering if Kate had come back for him. He'd wasted his last chances to show her how much he loved her, how badly he needed her, wondering if Kate still had a thing for him. _

_Suddenly he missed Juliet right to the core of his being. He put his face in his hands and cried until he didn't have any tears left in him. Then he wandered back into the town, barely noticing Kate as she filled her canteen for her return trip. _

_He sat down on his couch – but it wasn't his couch. He hadn't lived there in thirty years. None of the furniture was in the right place, most of it had been changed. A new set of pictures hung on the walls and a thick layer of dust coated the entire place. Nothing of his house, of his life, was left anymore. _

_A sick feeling punched him in the gut as he realized he didn't have anything of hers. He'd thrown her ring into the bay. He hadn't kept her necklace or a lock of her hair. He didn't even have a picture. It was like she'd vanished, erased out of his life like she'd never been in it. _

_He jumped up and began to frantically search the place for anything that might have belonged to her, anything she might have touched or loved. _

_Nothing. _

_Then he remembered the dead files in the rec room. A locked closet had stored all the retired records of the Dharma Initiative back in the seventies. Maybe he'd find something there, something filed away. Maybe a picture of them at a beachside barbecue or at Horace and Amy's wedding or at Miles' birthday party. _

_He ran to the building. The closet door stood open and several boxes had been pulled out into the room. The dust had been knocked away and on top of the Ping-Pong table lay a photo of the new initiates of 1977. Hurley, Jack, Kate. _

_Other photos lay scattered across the top of the open box; '72, '76, '78. He ransacked the stack for '74, the year they'd joined. But he couldn't even remember taking an initiation photo. A stack of manila file folders in the bottom of the box drew his attention and he pulled them out onto the Ping-Pong table. _

_Right off the bat, he noticed Phil's name on the tab of the first. He opened it up and saw the word "Deceased" inscribed across the top page in big red letters. A headshot of Phil, smiling, was paper-clipped to the top sheet. He slammed the folder shut and threw it across the room, papers scattering freely onto the floor. _

_Further into the stack he found his own folder. Then the one they'd created for Miles and Jin. Where was Juliet's? _

_He finally found it. "Carlson, Juliet" was emblazoned on the tab. He held it in his hands, his fingers trembling. In only seconds he'd be able to read about her. He'd be able to see her face. He tried not to imagine her the way he'd last seen her, her hair matted with blood, her eyes closed in death. He tried not to remember draping the burlap cloth over her body and shoveling in the dirt over her. _

_Then he gingerly lifted the cover. _

_No photograph. _

_The paperclip was still there but the photograph was gone. _

_He shuffled through the few pages the folder contained, a brief medical history, three mechanic certifications, a housing statement. _

_Then he noticed an envelope in the front. The postmark was August 4, 1977, a few weeks after they'd time-jumped away. It was to Juliet from Ann Arbor and still sealed._

_He turned it over and ran a finger beneath the flap, cutting himself in the process on the sharp edge of the paper._

_"Lab results" it read at the top, followed by a series of numbers and abbreviations with one set of readings circled in blue. "Congratulations!" someone had written at the bottom. _

_His breath caught in his chest at the last line. "Pregnancy results are positive."_

_A sudden image flashed into his mind of her standing there in the jungle, gun tucked in her waistband as she declared, "If I never meet you, then I never have to lose you." As she walked away from him, her hand lay across her belly in the same pose he'd seen Amy adopt a hundred times. The same pose he'd seen over and over again for the past several days whenever she was nervous or upset about something. _

_Why hadn't she told him? Why had she pushed him to help drop that God-damned bomb of Jack's if she thought for a second she might be pregnant? _

_"And you would stay with me forever if I let you, and that is why I will always love you," the words came back to him like a thunderclap. She hadn't wanted him to feel obligated to her. _

_"No, Juliet," he moaned, clenching the paper in his hand tightly. "You should have told me." _

_The enormity of his grief more than doubled as he considered everything he'd lost. _

_He screamed out against it all until his throat was raw. Then he started to drink. _


	17. Chapter 17: Losing Everything

Chapter 17 Losing Everything (Is Like the Sun Going Down on Me)

_Flashforward_

_"Sawy—" Claire started to say, but stopped short. "I mean Jim. James. It's hard trying to figure out what to call you." _

_"It's okay, Claire," James assured her as he flipped a burger on the grill. "Call me whatever you like." _

_"Nothing sounds right to me but Sawyer," she replied with a frown, picking at the napkins on the table. "It feels so strange to be back after everything. I don't know your name. I don't know Aaron anymore and he doesn't know me." She sighed deeply. "I don't even really know who I am." _

_He lowered the lid on the grill and walked over to take a seat next to her at the table. "Then call me Sawyer. I can take it. What were you going to say?" _

_"I'm sorry I took off on you in the jungle like that," she began softly. "But my dad was there. It was like I was dreaming. I left Aaron and everything. I feel so awful." _

_James could see she was starting to cry again and he couldn't let that happen. Her state of mind was so fragile since they'd returned. One moment she'd be caught up in sad memories, the next she'd be furious with Kate for taking Aaron. But in all that time she'd never been angry with the one person she ought to be mad at - him. _

_He took her hands in his. It was time for him to apologize to her. _

_"No, Claire," he began softly. "I'm the one who's sorry."_

-0-

He couldn't believe he lost. Again. First to Jack at poker and now to Hurley of all people at Ping Pong. He'd been the deadly Ping Pong assassin in lockup, now he was the island's resident loser.

Son of a bitch.

But he had to admit it amused the crap out of him that out of everything he still had stashed on that damned beach, the only thing these folks wanted out of him was respect. No more nicknames.

Hell, he could do that. By now, he'd learned most of their actual names anyway. Most. Some folks he still hadn't bothered with.

The only nickname that galled him to lose was Frogurt. That whiny bastard had been on his last nerve ever since they crashed, and he'd be damned before he gave him the satisfaction of calling him Neil. Everybody called him Frogurt, and it wasn't like Sawyer had even come up with it in the first place.

That one had been Charlie's.

-0-

"Charlie!" Claire's voice called out into the night, rousing Sawyer from his comfy bed. He threw on his jeans and headed outside to see her standing on the front porch of her little house there in New Otherton. Damn it, why had Kate picked just now to decide she was pissed at him and leave? As it was, nobody else had bothered to come out and check on the poor girl.

"Hey, Claire," he called hesitantly. When she didn't even turn toward him, he crossed the damp grass and added, "You're going to wake Aaron." Not to mention everybody else, he added silently.

He stepped onto her porch, but she just stood there, shading her eyes against nothing and calling, "Charlie!" as she looked back and forth into the darkness. "Claire, Charlie ain't here," he tried to tell her, but nothing was getting through. Maybe she was sleepwalking. He'd read one time that the best way to deal with a sleepwalker was to guide them back to bed, so he took a deep breath and put his arm tentatively around her shoulder. "Come on, let's go inside," he said softly.

Fortunately, she let herself be led into the house and he wandered through with her, hoping to find her bedroom in the dark without waking the baby.

One door stood open and he walked her inside, glad to see Aaron still asleep in the basket they'd found to use as a bassinet.

"Back to bed," he whispered and gently guided her to lie down again, pulling the blanket across her. She closed her eyes and he started to walk away.

Then her eyes snapped open again and she looked straight at him. "I lost him," she said sadly. "I've been looking everywhere for Charlie. Have you seen him?"

"No, I haven't," he admitted, not sure what else to say to her.

"He's gone," she whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "I can't find him."

"Shhh. Go back to sleep, okay?"

"Will you stay with me?" she asked plaintively.

"Yeah, sure," he answered and took a seat on the edge of the bed. She curled up into a ball against him and closed her eyes again.

In his basket, the baby sighed and shifted. Afraid his noise would wake Claire again, Sawyer rose to be sure he was warm enough. After so many nights in the jungle heat, the arrival of air-conditioning would take a little getting used to.

He spread the baby's blanket back across his chubby legs, greatly relieved to see him settle down again. But when he turned back to Claire, she was sitting up in the bed.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

"I've got to go find Charlie. He's got Aaron," she declared, her eyes not focused on the room at all, but fixed on a far distant point.

"Aaron's fine. He's right here. And so is Charlie," Sawyer lied. "Everybody's fine. Go back to sleep."

He sat next to her once more and she took his hand between both of hers. "Oh, Charlie," she sighed. "I thought I'd lost you."

He sat next to her for a long time as she slept. Finally, she sighed and rolled away from him, wrapping her arms around her pillow instead.

It would be dawn soon. Stifling a yawn, he slipped back out of her house and into his own bed. The sheets were cold against his skin. He wished Kate were back there to sleep with him again. Even if all they did was sleep.

He missed her. Finally, he slept as well.

-0-

Gunshots pinged around him as he ran for her house. He had to get Claire out of there. Then a gigantic fireball erupted in front of him, blowing the house into splinters, a wall of heat blazing into his face.

"Claire!" he yelled at the top of his voice. Fearing the worst, he ran into the wreckage, knowing what he might find, but feeling responsible for her somehow. He had to get her out of there. He saw her hand at last stretching out lifelessly onto the grass. Desperately he tossed the fallen debris from her and picked her up gently.

There was blood in her blonde hair and her skin was pale, her eyes closed. He had to get her out of there. So he gathered her into his arms and ran for it, screaming at Hurley to let them in.

When she came to a few moments later, an inexpressible relief came over him, as if he'd dodged a bullet. The sight of her body in the grass had terrified him to the core and he couldn't shake the vision of another blonde woman lying lifeless before him with blood in her hair.

The nightmare grew worse as he watched Keamy shoot Alex in cold blood, right in front of her father. "Oh, Sheena," he breathed in horror as she fell to the ground like a broken doll.

The sight of the furious black monster of smoke only increased the sensation. Everything had come apart on them. Their safe haven had become the worst kind of trap.

Deep in the jungle, he'd been forced to pull his gun once more on John Locke. He didn't know what kind of insanity the man had planned for Hugo, but Sawyer knew he'd kill the bastard before he'd allow him to take his friend.

"I'll go with him!" Hugo had made peace, but at a price Sawyer hadn't wanted to pay.

"If you harm one hair on his curly head," he warned, his eyes never leaving Locke's, "I will kill you." But even the threat of death wasn't enough to deter Locke from taking Hurley on his delusional search for a mythical moving cabin.

So Sawyer turned his attention to his next objective. He was going to see Claire and the baby safely to the beach.

The discovery of Karl and Alex's mother made the day's horror complete. Once they'd avoided Keamy and his men, Sawyer forced them to walk into the night to put as much distance between them and the homicidal mercenaries as possible. Finally, Claire couldn't go any further and he found a spot to camp and built them a small fire.

"Do you think we're safe here?" Claire asked as she tucked the baby close to her.

"Yeah, we've made really good time today," Sawyer assured her.

"Do you think Hurley will be able to find us again?"

"If those two psychos he's with don't get him killed first," smartass Miles commented.

"Shut the hell up," Sawyer ordered savagely. But the words had done their harm already. Claire's lower lip began to tremble.

"I can't lose Hurley too," she whispered. "He's the last friend I have left."

"No, no, Claire," Sawyer tried to comfort her. "I'm going to look out for you. You and the baby. I'm going to get you back to the beach. I promise."

But promises were made to be broken, he recalled the next morning as he searched the jungle for her, Aaron fretting in his arms.

"Which way did they go?" he asked Miles over and over, but despite the repeated answer of "I don't know," he couldn't stop asking.

It was like the jungle had eaten her. He remembered the smoke monster tearing through the underbrush like a giant undulating python. Had it come back for her?

He searched for signs of struggle or footprints. Nothing. Even when that Ethan bastard had taken her, he'd left Charlie behind hanging from a tree as a signpost.

"Tell me again," he ordered.

But Jackie Chan from the freighter just gave him the same story, "Some old guy in a suit came out of the trees and she called him 'Dad' then followed him."

"With the baby?" he asked again.

"Yeah, she took the baby and vanished," the guy repeated.

Aaron began to cry again and Sawyer knew he had to get him back to the beach where they could find him something to eat. He did his best to wrap him up in a less wet portion of his blanket and headed back.

He talked to Aaron as they walked, remembering the day he was born when he read to him. "I'm going to find your mom and bring her back," he promised. "I bet she met up with Hurley and they're all looking for that cabin or something. But don't worry about her. I'll find her."

-0-

_Flashforward_

_Miles came out of the house just as James began his apologies for leaving her behind. Twice. _

_"You left me, Sawyer?" she asked, her eyes blazing in sudden recollection. "You just left me behind in the jungle and took my baby with you?" _

_"Claire, honey," he tried to explain. "It's not like that. We looked for you all night. We had to get Aaron something to eat. He was crying." _

_"But I'm his mother!" she began to get seriously hysterical now. "He needed me!"_

_"I know it, and he still needs you," James tried to put a hand on her arm to comfort her, but she knocked it away. _

_"I want to see him!" she shouted, her eyes darting back and forth. "I have to see Aaron right now." _

_"He's at Kate's," James started to explain, but Claire just put her hands over her eyes and started to pace the patio, muttering under her breath. _

_"Claire, look at me." He took her firmly by the arms and she lashed out at him violently, the knuckles of her left hand making sharp, painful contact with his cheekbone. Instead of pulling away, he just put his arms around her and held her tightly until she stopped fighting and looked up at him. "Aaron is safe. He is at Kate's. We'll see him again in the morning. Right now, you are safe here with me. I'm going to take care of you." _

_Her lip trembled and big tears rolled down her face. "You won't leave me again, will you? You promise?" she asked fearfully. _

_"I won't leave you, Claire." He stroked her hair and held her against his chest while she cried. _

-0-

Sawyer looked down at the jungle as it receded, the helicopter leaving it all behind. Claire was still down there, lost in that tangled mass of green. But he couldn't help but feel relief that Hurley and Kate were safe in the chopper, headed toward the boat.

Once they landed, he'd see that Kate and Hurley had their passage off that damned island, then he and the pilot could search for Claire by air as they got the rest of their people lifted away from that cursed rock.

Then came Lapidus's announcement from the front. They were a couple of hundred pounds overweight. They'd never make the freighter.

_Son of a bitch,_ he thought.

He looked at his fellow passengers. Sayid was up front with the pilot, his eyes firmly fixed on the horizon where the freighter sat.

Hurley and Kate were non-negotiable. They were absolutely getting on that freighter safely. It was down to him and Jack. He watched as Jack unconsciously tightened the strap on his seatbelt.

That left Sawyer to make the hard call. The further they got from the island, the more certain he was that he needed to be the one to jump. And the more certain he became that the chopper wasn't coming back for them any time soon.

He looked at Kate one last time. He could give her this at least. But he had one request before he turned her over to Jack completely.

"Kate!" he called, then whispered into her ear. If he couldn't go home right then, he could at least make sure somebody made part of his life right by taking care of his daughter.

He kissed her one last time, then bailed out of the chopper door. "Sawyer!" her voice echoed in his ears as he hit the water.

He slammed into the surf harder than he expected and came up coughing water out of his lungs, kicking off his boots as they dragged him down. He tread water for a moment, watching the helicopter grow smaller as it flew into the distance.

Something deep inside him whispered the knowledge that she was gone. She'd gotten free of this place, and she wasn't coming back. The island had let her go.

Sadness enveloped him for a moment, followed by a sense of peace. Kate was free. He slipped out of his shirt and began to swim back to the beach. Back home.

_-0-_

_"Why are you doing it, Jim?" Miles asked that night after Claire had finally gotten to sleep. "She's Kate's problem. Kate's the one who came back for her." _

_"I let her get away from me that night," James admitted, shaking his head sadly. "If I'd just kept a closer eye on her, she'd have been on that chopper with Jack and Kate and gone home. It's my fault she got left behind. Then I tried to leave her again after she attacked Kate."_

_"None of that was your fault," Miles argued in typical Miles fashion. "That other guy lured her away. Then he made her crazy. You didn't do that." _

_"But if I don't take care of her, who will? Her mother is a real sweet lady, but she doesn't understand what happened to her. And Kate's got her hands full trying to explain to the kid how he's got two mommies now but not like in all the books." He sighed and sat back at the bar. "I've got to take care of her, Miles, because I've got to do it. She's my responsibility. She was from the minute I pulled her out of that house. And I let her down." _

_"Well, be careful," Miles warned as he gave James a parting pat on the shoulder. "She's got a mean left hook." _

_James rubbed his cheek gingerly and agreed. _

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, it's NaNoWriMo time and I am bound and determined to make at least some headway on the sequel to The Blacksmith's Daughter (as Arley Cole). Meanwhile, Storm Duty (as Leigh Daley) isn't selling worth crap and I've got to do some promo on it too. But this doesn't mean I'm not going to be updating. No. In fact, I am hoping to update even more while pushing myself to write more. If you are enjoying Grace Period, you might like Storm Duty. It's cheap-$1.99 and available at Amazon around the world-even Japan now! So by all means, check it out. If you read it, please oh please review it. It needs some love badly.)


	18. Chapter 18 Just Gone

Chapter 18 Just Gone

_Flashforward_

_He stood there frozen in place. It was her. _

_He could see her there looking so alive, so beautiful. A sudden rush of memory ran through him and he was back in her arms again. He could smell her hair, could feel the familiar contours of her body pressed against his. _

_It seemed like an eternity since he'd seen her last and he drank in the sight, willing himself to utter silence. _

_In only moments they'd pushed off from the beach in one of the outriggers paddling toward the Orchid as he recalled. Shortly thereafter a group of men dressed like pirates strode out of the jungle, antique rifles in their hands. One noticed that they'd lost a canoe and they pointed angrily out to sea, where it receded into the distance. The men then shouted at each other in Spanish and hopped into the other outrigger in hot pursuit. _

_He remembered it so well. They were paddling calmly toward the Orchid station. He was deep in thought. In only moments Juliet would ask him the question, "What was it like seeing Kate again?" _

_Seeing Kate that night with Claire had been surreal, unexpected, and heartwrenching. _

_But nothing compared to this. Kate had only left the island. By the time he encountered her in that flash, Locke had already told him she was alive and well and living in Los Angeles. _

_But Juliet was gone. Forever gone. He watched their little outrigger as long as he could see it, his eyes never leaving the tiny figure that sat next to last. _

_"You okay, dude?" Hurley asked anxiously behind him once the canoes vanished against the horizon._

_He wanted to yell back at him that he was not okay. That he would never be okay. That now, almost a year since she died in his arms, he still dreamed about holding her and woke up unable to breathe from the grief. _

_"Why now, Hugo?" he choked back the tears to demand. "Why did you ask me to come here now? Did you know this would happen?" _

_"No, man, I swear," the big guy replied. "And you're the one who asked to come back, Jim. Don't forget that." _

_On one of his trips to visit them in LA, Hurley had mentioned that he and the rest of the inhabitants had done some work to the graveyard at the beach. Somehow, he'd recovered Sun, Jin, and Sayid from the sub's wreckage and placed them to lie at rest next to the others they'd lost. Next to Libby and Jack. _

_When Hurley had softly added that he'd moved Juliet's body from the jungle as well, James knew he had to return. _

_Despite the pain he knew he'd feel, he'd asked to come back and see. But if he'd had any idea this would happen. . . . If he'd thought for a moment that on the way back from her grave he'd actually catch sight of them on the beach in one of those damned time jumps. . . . _

_"How does it feel to see her again?" Kate asked quietly. _

_But James couldn't answer her. All he could do was weep. _

-0-

"Whatcha celebrating?" He'd broken from the surf where Juliet sat on the beach, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in her hands.

"I'm not celebrating," she declared, then looked toward the horizon.

He looked back over his shoulder, unprepared for the sight. Smoke boiled up in the distance, sending black plumes into the sky.

Kate. Kate was on that freighter. Kate and Hurley. A sickness ran through him that he could not stop. They were gone.

-0-

Timetravel was a bitch, he decided, clenching his teeth against the piercing squeal in the air and the pain in his skull. But as much as he hated it, it had given him two gifts. Locke knew somehow that Kate was still alive. She and Hurley and the others had all made it to L.A. safe and sound.

Then it had given him one last look at her. It had taken every bit of self-control he'd possessed not to run out of the jungle and throw his arms around her. After the flash had passed and they paddled away from the shore in a mysterious dugout canoe, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd grabbed hold of her, she would have come with him.

That thought had been uppermost in his mind as they leaned against the canoe in the darkness, exhausted from paddling to shore in that storm. When Juliet asked, "Why don't you tell me now?" he almost told her.

"I was close enough to touch her. If I wanted to, I could've-" He almost said it aloud-_taken her in my arms. I almost tried to bring her with me. _But instead he finished, "I could've... stood right up and talked to her."

But even as she asked him why he didn't do any of this, he knew the answer. It was over. It was over the minute he jumped out of the chopper. Kate was back where she belonged, back where she'd always really belonged. With Jack.

She was gone.

And he was alone.

-0-

Later on he stood over the stones of half a well with a rope in his hands that ran down into bare dirt. "No! No, no, no, no, no!" he heard himself cry and dropped to his knees to dig at the ground with his fingers.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "James, stop," came a gentle voice.

Without Locke there was no stopping this. There was no going home. Something deep inside told him that unless Locke finished the job, they were all going to die. Now Locke was buried alive.

Juliet spoke to him again, but he knew Locke was running out of air and time. "Come on and help me!" he begged her.

But she just looked back at him sadly. "James-we can't help him. James. . . stop," she whispered, her hands on his shoulders. He looked up in to her sad blue eyes, full of sympathy.

He knew at that moment it was hopeless. Locke was gone.

"We can't help him," she continued and he held onto the reason in her voice like an anchor. "Wherever John went, he's gone. And wherever we are is before that well was ever built."

He looked over where Miles and Jin stood transfixed by a sight that loomed over the trees. A gigantic statue of some kind of animal headed god - like an Egyptian hieroglyph rendered into stone - stood facing the ocean. When the hell were they? But before he could say anything, the world splintered into flashes of blinding light and piercing screams of ultrasonic noise. The ground literally shook beneath his feet but it was the onslaught of pain and chaos in his head that brought him to his knees.

Juliet sank to the ground beside him, holding her head in agony, as he did the same. But when it was over, it was over. Really over.

Whenever they were, there they were.

Locke was gone.

And Charlotte was gone.

They found Faraday on the trail, kneeling in the dirt, shaking his head and muttering to himself. James watched Juliet try to comfort the man as he broke down, but he couldn't bear to look at Daniel as grief poured out of him in irrational streams. James knew that if he didn't keep moving, if he didn't keep some kind of action plan in mind, some concrete forward motion, he would do the same thing. He'd disintegrate into panic. So he held to the one place he knew on that freaking rock – the beach.

Then he discovered that he had something else he could hold onto. Juliet had his back on his call to return, despite Miles's protests. A couple of hours later, when she fired the first shot at the man who was gunning for him, he realized she didn't just have his back on the little things—she would also cover him when it really counted. Relief coursed through him and he dropped the other guy with a shot of his own.

Maybe he wasn't as alone as he thought.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"So, LaFleur, what makes you feel like you are the best candidate for head of security?" Dr. Chang asked. "You've only been with the Dharma Initiative a year. Why should we place our trust in you?" _

_James threw a practiced glance around the committee, completely within his element. He was about to run the biggest con of his life on these people, and he had to admit, it felt great to be back in the saddle. The best part had to be that this con would be a win-win for both parties. Hiring him as head of security benefited the Dharmavillians just as much as it did him and his people. _

_"Dr. Chang, I've seen your security," he informed him in a confidential tone. "When Peterson bailed out on you last month, you lost the last man on staff with any real combat experience on this island or off it. Now I'm not much on talking about past service, but I know something about jungle warfare. Plus I also spent three weeks on this island looking for my people before we lucked up on you guys." _

_He took a moment to look Pierre right in the eyes so there would be no misunderstanding. "I've seen things on this island that I can't explain. And I know for a fact that the other folks on this island don't want you here for some pretty good reasons. So the question is who are you going to trust to keep the truce intact with them? Somebody like Phil who's never seen combat? Somebody like Radzinsky who's idea of diplomacy is shoot first?" _

_"Dr. Chang," he concluded, "I've already done both. I protected one of your people in an attack on her and her husband. Then I successfully renegotiated the truce after putting two of their guys in the ground. I think you've already put your trust in me. It's a matter of making it official." _

_Then he stopped talking and leaned back, still keeping his eyes fixed on Chang's. Pierre hemmed and hawed a couple of minutes as he shuffled papers, clearly holding an internal debate on how hard it would be to tell Phil and Radzinsky that the job James knew both men wanted had gone to a newcomer, an outsider. But despite the reluctance, James knew the job was his. _

_In a moment, the good doctor made it official. _

_"Very well, Mr. LaFleur, the job is yours," he declared, closing his folders and giving him a tight smile across the table. "I just wish the rest of your colleagues possessed job skills as useful to the Dharma Initiative as yours in law enforcement and military service." _

_James shrugged, "I got stuck on that boat with a newspaper reporter, a Korean weatherman, a physicist on vacation, and a Latin teacher. So much for my adventure travel business." _

_-0-_

Richard Alpert hadn't gotten through the fence yet before James had begun to formulate a plan. He headed back to the house where the rest of his group waited. They needed to try to fit in with the folks at Dharmaville. Alpert's bunch would ask too many questions. Plus, Alpert didn't know Juliet in the future as far as he could tell, so that meant they hadn't met in the 70s.

With the Dharmavillians, they could scout the island for any of the rest of their people that might have made it through the time shifts—Rose, Bernard . . . Claire, he added to himself with a pang of guilt.

He also considered how it might work if Locke did manage to return with the rest of the group. Would they actually somehow show up in the 70s? Much more likely had to be that they'd come back to the island in their time, leaving him, Juliet, Miles, and Jin stranded in the past. Who the hell knew?

But he couldn't shake the thought, unreasonable though it might be, that they could all show up on his front doorstep any minute.

The reprieve from Horace that evening made it official. They needed to join the Dharma Initiative.

Over the next day, he devised some job skills for the remainder of his companions. But when he presented the idea at the house that evening, Juliet balked on him.

"No, James, I am not going to be a nurse," she declared firmly.

"Okay, so you're a lady doctor—just remember this is the 70s and lots of women haven't burned their bras yet," he instructed. "Be careful not to know too much."

She pierced him with one of her purest go-to-hell gazes. "I'm not staying here, but even if I did, I won't have anything more to do with medicine on this damned island."

"Oh, come on, Blondie," he tried to cajole her, "you're the only one of us that actually has a job skill these people might be after. I mean look at us." He gestured around the circle. "We've got a very small medium," Miles gave him his own go-to-hell look for that one, "a Korean hitman, a fried genius, and a con artist. You are the ace in the hole."

"No," she repeated. "Since you are the con artist, I suggest you use your job skills instead." Then she rose from the sofa and headed out the door.

"Fine," he snapped then looked around the rest of the group. Jin looked mystified, Miles looked pissed as usual, and Daniel looked miserable. "All right then, let's come up with some cover stories."

-0-

A half-hour later, he found Juliet just where he knew she'd be. The sub had left that afternoon and just as she'd promised, she'd stayed behind with him.

"Two weeks," he repeated to her as he walked up to the docks in the moonlight. "Just give me two weeks to see if we can't find anybody else out there. Then we'll all get off this rock together and go make a life in Seventiesland."

She looked up at him, the dock light glowing softly on her hair. "What about Locke?" she asked in her deceptively calm way.

"John Locke ain't coming back. And if he did, none of them that left are stupid enough to come back with him," he declared firmly, even though a skip in his heartbeat made him wonder just a little about one of them.

"Besides," he added, taking a seat beside her once more as she stared off across the bay, "even if he did come back, it ain't like they'd come back to 1974. This is it, Blondie. It's just you and me now."

She turned to look up at him then, her blue eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears, and a look of sad desperation crossed her face.

"Hey," he began to backpedal, taken aback by her sudden emotion. "It's going to be okay. We'll make it."

"James, I don't want to be stuck here," she began, her voice choking with emotion.

"Then we'll go home," he assured her. "When the sub comes back, we'll take the next trip back to civilization."

"I'm not talking about the island." Her head shook emphatically. "I'm talking about here in this time. We can't go home. Home doesn't exist yet."

He tried to put a comforting arm around her shoulder, but she shrugged him free and stood up.

"Juliet, hey," he called after her as she strode down the path back to the house the Dharmans had assigned them. "Wait up!"

He caught up with her in a few quick steps and reached out to take her by the arm. She jerked free of him but stopped, tears streaming down her face.

"How is this so easy for you?" she asked angrily. "How can you be so nonchalant about living 30 years away from where you are supposed to be?"

He'd had this conversation before, he recalled. He'd done his best to convince Kate to stay for the same reasons he was about to use with Juliet.

And it hadn't done him a damned bit of good then either.

"You don't want to know," he declared firmly and turned to walk toward the house. She fell into step beside him, resolutely wiping the tears from her eyes. Finally, they stood on the doorstep. Inside he could hear Miles and Jin arguing in a mix of English and Korean. Then Jin opened the door and pushed past them angrily to head out into the darkness.

"What's his problem?" James asked Miles, who'd followed the angry Korean to the door.

"I just asked him to make some tea," Miles explained. "Then he got all mournful over the teabags and broke the pot."

"He misses her." James peered inside the room to see Daniel standing beside the window, staring out into the darkness. "He misses his wife," the physicist added sadly. "I don't blame him for being angry."

"Danny boy over there won't quit watching Charlotte's house," Miles added in an undertone. "He's stalking a preschooler. It's beginning to creep me out."

James sighed and ushered Juliet into the house so they could continue their conversation out of the earshot of any passing Dharmavillians. "Jin will be back," he assured the rest of his people.

Then he wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Beer. They had beer. Beer changed everything, he decided, and began passing them out.

-0-

Many, many beers later, he sat on the couch between Miles and Jin—who had indeed returned.

"Well, I don't care if we ever get back," Miles slurred out of nowhere. "Did I tell you guys who I met in the cafeteria?" When nobody bothered to answer him, he continued. "My mom. Turns out Pierre Chang is just another name for dear old dad."

"Are you okay with that?" Juliet asked in a sleepy voice.

"Sure, he's okay," James interjected merrily, slapping Miles on the shoulder. "He's gonna get the chance to know his daddy in a whole new way. So what's he like back home? Stick in the mud? No fun? Ground you for talking back to him?"

Miles blinked at him and in a monotone declared, "Jim, my dad is dead. He's the one who's grounded. He's stuck in the mud big time."

Juliet frowned for a long moment before she summoned the energy to say, "Sorry 'bout that."

"I never knew him," Miles added mournfully, then knocked back the remainder of his beer and popped the top on another one.

"Well, now you can!" James threw out his arms wide in a joyful gesture that nearly knocked Jin off the couch. "See, this ain't so bad. Miles can play house with his momma and daddy. Dan's got pint sized Charlotte to watch over. Jin's wife's not even born, so if he finds somebody else to fool around with it ain't like he's cheating on her." James couldn't believe how well he had it all figured out. They were fine. Everything was good.

Until Jin's drunken command of English managed to translate his little rant. "Son of a bitch," Jin yelled in perfect enunciation, then popped James in the eye with a sloppy but painful right hook.

"What was that for?" James yelled in disbelief.

"I will not cheat on Sun, damn it!"

"His English is better drunk," Miles commented from the side.

"Sun's gone," James tried to explain. "Charlotte's gone. Kate's gone. Jack's gone," he added for Juliet's benefit. "We are all we've got. All I'm saying, Jin, is that if you find some way to live here, then live here. Hell, that's what I'm going to do."

He'd actually gotten up during that little speech and began to pace the floor. "Don't you get it? Everybody in their life wants a redo. This is it. We get a redo."

"Nothing," Juliet offered out of nowhere from her little chair. "That's why this is so easy for you. You've got nothing at home to go back to."

"News flash, sweetheart," he snapped sarcastically. "That's old info. Everybody on this God damned island knows who I am and what a big pile of nothing I've got waiting for me back home."

"You people gotta wake up and smell the dog shit here," he continued passionately. "We get a fresh start. Sometime up ahead, Sun's alive and well and so are Kate and Jack. They are moving on without us. We gotta do the same."

Across the way a light turned on in the cottage where toddler Charlotte lived. Dan, who had remained utterly silent during James's rant, rose to his feet and peered out the window.

"Is something wrong over there?" he murmured. "Is she okay?"

James started to go talk some sense into him, but Juliet pushed him back firmly. "I've got this one, James," she stated. "You've done enough counseling for one night."

"I'm going to bed," Miles declared and lay down in the floor beside the couch where he didn't move again.

"I feel sick," Jin stated, then headed down the hall to the bathroom.

"Well, I'm not going to bed until you do," James challenged his blonde nemesis.

Juliet's glacial glare actually lowered the temperature in the room, but she turned back to Daniel with a softness James suddenly envied.

"Charlotte's fine, Daniel," she assured him as she put a hand on his shoulder. "You know she is. You've seen her all grown up and successful. She's going to be just fine."

"Until then," Daniel choked out. "Until she dies right there. I was holding her one minute and she was gone the next. I didn't even get to say goodbye. The time flash took her before I could close her eyes or tell her again how much I-"

Daniel's voice broke and he began to sob against Juliet's shoulder.

"James is right, Dan," Juliet murmured into the man's ear. "This is our second chance. Charlotte would want you to make the most of it. She'd want you to be happy and not spend your whole life worrying about her. She's tough. She will take care of herself. You've seen it."

After a moment, Daniel pulled away. "I think I need to be on the next sub out of here." He wiped his face, and despite the fact that he was completely drunk James could tell the man's attitude had changed. "Horace said something about sending a group of scientists to Ann Arbor. Maybe I can tag along with them."

"That's a great idea," Juliet agreed and gave him a smile that held unlimited reassurance and serenity.

James sighed as Daniel headed down the hall to the room he shared with Miles. He turned back to Juliet, hoping she'd look at him that way too.

The reassuring angel had been replaced by a vengeful fury. "James, go to bed," she ordered with only the slightest slur of her words, pointing his way down the hall.

"Only if you come with me," he purred suggestively, sidling up next to her to run a hand down her arm.

"I am not having sex with you," she declared firmly, but she didn't pull away from his touch.

_Not yet_, he thought to himself. After all, he knew a few things about women. Primarily at that moment he knew they were soft and warm. He tried to put his usual pitiful spin on his next words, calculated to soften the resolve and bring out the nurturing side of the woman he was seducing.

But instead of pitiful, the words came out desperate, honest, and harsh.

"I don't want to be alone."

"I know," she answered and put her arms around him. She was so soft and so warm. He leaned his head onto her shoulder and clung to her, first to drink in that comfort then for support as the room spun around him. God, he was going to be sick in the morning. They all were.

Behind him he heard the bathroom door open as Jin staggered into the bedroom he and James shared.

"He better not puke on the bed," James commented dryly.

He and Juliet navigated the hallway themselves, leaning on each other heavily as they did. They paused at his doorway to see Jin stretched out diagonally across the double bed, passed out cold and beginning to snore.

"Son of a bitch," James sighed and took a step into the room.

A hand on his arm stopped him.

"I don't want to be alone either," Juliet stated, but where he had been cold and harsh, she barely held back tears. "I've been so alone here for so long."

This time it was his turn to hold her as she broke down into drunken sobs.

"It's okay, Blondie," he assured her. "I've got your back. Just you and me now."

He helped her to her bed, slipping her shoes from her feet and tucking her under the blanket. But before he could leave the room, she threw back the blanket on the other side. "Give Jin his space," she sighed. A snore echoed across the hall and he nodded.

He kicked off his boots, then stripped out of his shirt and jeans.

"No sex. Just sleep," she yawned. So he lay down beside her, deliberately facing away. Other parts of his anatomy didn't listen to directions very well.

To his surprise and delight, she snuggled up against his back, curling the length of her body against his, warm and soft.

He slept.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: To all the fics who've gone before, I salute you! In particular I've stolen a description from makealist's Ghosts of LA - Seventiesland. I have to admit a little trepidation at entering the Dharma years because there's so much great fanfiction out there that deals with the big issues James and Juliet certainly would have experienced.

But ya' gotta do what ya' gotta do, so I too am treading that ground. I hope I don't get too close to somebody else's vision! If you see echoes of your own work in this, please be kind and don't flame me. I can't consciously recall any of the others I've read, but you never know when somebody's incredible image or concept made an indelible impact on my imagination!

Also, for a while at least, no more sad flashforwards. After all, these are the good times. I'm not going to mar them with sad reminders of how it all turns out.)


	19. Chapter 19 There's No Place Like

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: This gets pretty steamy toward the end. Let me know how you like it.)

Chapter 19 - There's No Place Like

James checked Jin's hiding place out of the corner of his eye. Between the vivid green of jungle leaves, he could just make out the mouth of the barrel where Jin aimed his rifle sniper-style on the man approaching. James knew they couldn't be too careful, but it still bothered him to raise arms against a guy who used to be one of their own.

"Hey, Jerry!" James called out to him. "We've been looking all over for you."

"I didn't go to the creek," Jerry explained, his eyes shifting around anxiously as he approached. "Thought that was a piss poor idea, Sawyer."

James nodded. Yeah, it had been. "You hungry?" he asked. The guy had been wandering in the jungle for over a week separated from the rest of the group. He had to be hungry.

"No," Jerry stated. "I'm fine. What happened to us? I went to the beach but there's nothing there."

James gave the man a wry grin and agreed with him. "No, the camp's gone. The story is a pretty crazy one. You want to hear it?"

"No, not really." Without warning, Jerry emotionlessly pulled a revolver out of his waistband and brought the handgun to bear on him. Two shots rang out as Jin dropped their former fellow castaway to the ground.

"What's the matter with them?" James cried out in frustration as the man hit the dirt. "Jerry's the third one. They're like zombies or something. And where the hell did he get a gun?"

Jin walked out of the trees and knelt beside the man briefly before looking up at James. "Sick," he explained, pointing to his head. "Like Rousseau's people. All sick. They tried to kill her."

"Son of a bitch," James sighed. "Well, damn it, this makes another one we've got to bury. We can't take these crazies back to Dharma still trying to kill us and Richard won't have them either."

Miles emerged from his own hiding place and brought out the shovels. Silently, the three men tended to their grim task. Once Jerry had been safely stowed away, they hopped into the van Horace had allowed them to borrow and drove back to Dharmaville.

It had been nine days since the time flashes had dropped them square into the seventies. Since then, James, Miles, and Jin had searched the island for others of their group that had lived through the Night of Flaming Arrows as Miles had taken to calling it. So far, they'd found three live ones, all of whom had tried to kill them, and two dead ones who'd apparently been injured in the attack and lived long enough to travel through the flashes, but died in the jungle of their wounds.

Those two bothered him. If he'd only searched harder, they might have found them. As it was, two of his people died alone and forgotten. Oddly enough, the ones they'd had to shoot didn't bother him at all. Those weren't his people any more. They had changed. Maybe sick, maybe crazy. But gone just the same.

At night, the four of them – Daniel was pretty much a non-participant – tried to list out everybody they knew for a fact went down at Flaming Arrows. Jin and Juliet remembered the group much better than he or Miles. In fact, James had been a little embarrassed at first by how many people Juliet had known at the camp. She'd only been with them a few days. He'd been with them for weeks and could recall just a few names.

"Don't beat yourself up, James. I had files, remember?" she finally declared, then got up from the table to pour herself a drink.

"That doesn't change the fact that Jin remembers way more of them than you do and he doesn't even speak English," Miles tacked on maliciously.

"I learn English," Jin retorted. "Sawyer trying to learn too."

"Learn what, Ninja Warrior?" James snapped back.

"How to be a person, James." Juliet stated calmly and offered him a glass of his own as she sat down, the gesture softening her words.

He bristled a little, but knew they were right. He should have known these people much better. "And no more Sawyer," he ordered. "It's Jim LaFleur. Keep the cover tight."

"Why did you get to change your name and the rest of us had to keep ours?" Miles asked in his usual snarky tone.

"I changed mine," Juliet said evenly.

"Back to your maiden name. Not like it's a big change or anything. But 'Jim' here got to completely reinvent himself. Creole, my ass." Miles shoved his chair back and went for a beer in the fridge.

"Shut up, Miles," James sighed. "You already changed your name before you got here – Mr. Chang."

"God, that sounds so weird," Miles sighed as he took his seat again.

Juliet looked down their list. "So that leaves Rose and Bernard unaccounted for."

"And Claire," James added. "She's out there too."

"If they are still out there," Miles concluded, "they don't want to be found. We've searched the whole island."

The table was silent as they all considered his words. Then Jin spoke. "Locke."

"Locke's gone, Jin," James sighed.

"He will come back. He will bring them back," Jin sounded very certain.

"Not in this decade," Miles groaned.

"If Locke comes back, Sun might come with him," Jin sounded both hopeful and fearful at the same time. James completely understood.

"Then we'll keep looking," Juliet assured him, reaching across the table to give the man's hand a little squeeze and flash him some of that reassurance and comfort she did so well.

-0-

James and Juliet had slept together without sleeping together every night since that first drunken collapse into bed. He didn't remember much about that night, and she declared she didn't either. But he had a distinct memory of her crying in his arms at one point.

She hadn't cried a tear since. Instead, she'd gone to work keeping Dan sane and making sure they had a vehicle available for their searches by flirting with the guy who ran the motor pool.

They all lived together, ate together, searched together, and fought together. But every night, the other boys went to their own rooms and he ended up in hers. That first night, he'd come in as a joke, sat down on the edge of the bed and started pulling off his boots.

But instead of throwing him out, she scooted over to make room, then cuddled right up against him as she whispered, "No sex," into his ear.

"Fine, then," he replied in his sexiest teasing voice, but he didn't try to push the issue.

Instead he'd lie in bed beside her, her breasts warm and soft against his back, the other parts of his anatomy screaming at him, and dream about Kate.

He felt like such an asshole every time too. Kate was gone. But Juliet's body pressing against his made him incredibly horny and that made him dream. He dreamed about that last kiss before he jumped out of the chopper. He dreamed about the last time they'd made love. He dreamed about the first time. He saw her face in the night and it was like she was right there with him.

Then when he woke up it was Juliet who lay beside him.

And in all that time, she'd never once given him that reassuring angel treatment that she poured out so liberally over Daniel and Jin. He'd even caught a dose of it being passed to Miles when he'd been forced to shoot the first zombie castaway they'd encountered.

He needed reassurance too, damn it. But even as he began to pity himself, he realized that if he moaned to her that he missed Kate, she'd probably throw him out of her bed, and there was no way in hell he was leaving that.

Maybe he couldn't get her reassurance and comfort look, but he could sure enjoy her arms around him, holding him against whatever dreams or nightmares the night delivered.

-0-

The night before the sub was due to pull out, the camp had a visitor. Richard Alpert showed up, declaring his need to speak to James LaFleur and Horace Goodspeed.

The three men met in the central park area of the compound. "Mr. Goodspeed." Alpert began politely.

"Mr. Alpert."

James just laughed at them. "You guys are ridiculous. Putting on such a polite show when you really just want to blow each other's brains out."

The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Horace broke the silence. "Since you called this meeting, Mr. Alpert –" James rolled his eyes at Horace's stress of the word 'mister' "—why don't you begin."

"First of all, we had nothing to do with the state Mr. LaFleur found his friends in," Richard began. "I just wanted to assure you of that fact."

Horace's eyes widened behind his little round glasses. It made him look like that kid from _A Christmas Story_—Ralphie. But Ralphie wouldn't be on the big screen for several more years. Suddenly James felt very old and very out of place. He was tired of hiding his cards, tired of masquerading as somebody he wasn't. Honesty suddenly became the best policy.

"I know, I know," James cut to the chase. "That probably had to do with the crazy smoke monster and the freaky ruins you guys have out there in the woods." At Richard's start of surprise, James added, "I spent a few weeks on this crazy rock before we ran into the good folks of the Dharma Initiative, Richard. I've seen some bizarre shit."

Richard's eyes narrowed. "We won't discuss this now," he stated firmly. "And I would ask that you not discuss it further with anyone in the Dharma Initiative."

Horace shook his head and laughed. "Why do you think we put up that fence you like to waltz through? We know what's out there on the other side."

"Do you, Mr. Goodspeed? Do you?" A layer of quiet threat – or warning – colored Richard's reply. James was impressed.

"So what has all this got to do with me and my people?" James asked, suddenly tired of the bullcrap.

"We'd like to ask that you and your people join us," Richard replied. "Unlike your fellows, you seem to be immune to the unusual properties of this place. We believe you belong with us."

Horace actually looked stunned at this.

James looked back and forth between the two men, considering his choice. The Others certainly knew far more about the island than the Dharmans did. If Locke came back, he might come back to their camp. After all, he'd refused to kill one of them during the flashes because he claimed to be their leader.

On the other hand, the good Dharma folk had already taken them in one time and they were the only ones with a way off the island.

"You know, I think we're going to stay right where we are," James decided. "But just so you know, Richard, me and my people don't have any quarrel with you and yours, and we appreciate the offer of hospitality."

Richard nodded and rose to his feet. "I understand. But you need to know that we will not allow you or any of your people to leave the island. You already know too much. I believe Mr. Goodspeed will agree to that."

James tossed a glance at Horace and could see the truth written all over the mathematician's face. He might have let them go that first night, but not now. James had pretty much signed their commitment papers when he let slip the bit about the ruins.

"Now, LaFleur, any deal we have is between us," Horace began, but James cut him off.

"Don't worry," he replied, rising to his feet as well. "I knew how it was the minute we walked into your camp. You two just remember this. There are three factions on this island now, Alpert's people, the Dharma people, and my people. We're going to hang here at Dharmaville and be good members of the commune. But we aren't going to make war on anybody and we aren't going to mess with anything on this island that don't belong to us."

"Then stay out of our jungle. Stay away from those places that are off limits. Stop building that station you call the Orchid. You don't know what you are dealing with," Richard argued.

"The Orchid is well within the boundaries set by the truce," Horace replied hotly.

But before their argument could escalate any further, James interjected, "Sounds like you boys got a lot to talk about. But I think my part's done here."

As he walked down the path that led to the house, he could hear the two men continuing to argue.

He smiled to himself as he opened the front door and walked inside. "So what was that all about?" Juliet asked. Damn. Now he had to tell her that they couldn't leave. The thought of not leaving didn't bother him at all. He didn't have a damned thing in the US in 1974 he wanted to be part of. But he felt bad at having sabotaged her escape.

"Richard offered to let us come live at Camp Otherton," James answered. At Juliet's look of horror, he added, "I turned him down."

"Good," Miles commented from the sofa where he sat with a sandwich and a pile of chips. "The food over there has got to suck."

"So we are staying here?" Jin asked hopefully. "We can keep watching for Locke?"

"Yeah, and Rose, Bernard, and Claire," James assured him. "I just can't kick the feeling that they are out there somewhere."

Juliet looked sad, but nodded. "You did the right thing, James," she added. "We don't belong with them. I've been part of that group. I don't want to go back."

"There's only one thing," James's stomach clenched a little at the thoughts of telling her. "Richard wants us to stay on the island. I think Horace agrees with him. Maybe in a few months we'll be able to push the issue, maybe get him to let one or two of us leave. But not right away."

Jin and Miles both seemed fine. "I do not go anyway," Jin added. "My place is here until I know Sun is not coming back."

"And just think of the fun I'll have seeing my parents every day as just a couple of kids in love," Miles commented between bites of sandwich, his tone sarcastic as usual, but James noticed the way he blinked when he said it.

It was Juliet's answer that surprised him. "We need to stay. A while longer at least. Maybe Rose and Bernard are out there."

"And Claire," James added.

"And Claire." Juliet gave him a smile full of reassurance and comfort. He felt like he'd been blessed.

-0-

That night, they lay in bed together, Juliet cuddled against his back as usual. He was just drifting off to sleep when she asked, "Tell me the truth. Why did you decide to stay here? Richard knows a lot about this island. He could have helped you find them if they are still out there."

He rolled over so he could look at her, so she'd know he was being honest. For some reason it mattered very much that she believe him. "I chose Dharma because of this, Juliet."

"What? A bed?" she scoffed.

"Not just the bed. Beer too. And barbecues and kids playing. We can't go home. You said it yourself. But damn it, this place feels like home. Like it could be. I'm done with the jungle. No more camping out. No more hunting boar. For the first time in months, I feel like it could all be okay," he admitted. "I feel safe."

She lay there quietly, so quietly that he felt compelled to ask a question of his own. "So you tell me, Blondie, why did you say it was okay to stay here? Why aren't you fighting to leave?"

She shifted closer to him, so that her legs tangled with his. Immediately, he felt his anatomy begin to stir. "I am staying because of this," she sighed. "We can't go home. Home doesn't exist yet. But for the first time since I got to this damned island, I feel safe too."

She rested her head against his shoulder and he stroked her hair and sighed. Outside, a jungle bird called out, but if he tried real hard, he could pretend it was an owl instead. The house sounded like any other house in the darkness. The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen and the walls creaked just a little with the wind. A few drops of rain began to patter against the windowpanes and a roll of distant thunder sounded no different than any other summer storm.

He tried to name the feeling that came over him, a feeling he wasn't accustomed to. Then she shifted in his arms and pressed a kiss against his chest.

Belonging.

For the first time in his life he felt like he belonged somewhere, like he was supposed to be right there in that house in that bed beside her.

He kissed the top of her head and drew her even tighter against him, aware that everything he had that minute was precious. It might not last a week - this house, this safety, this warm bed, and these soft arms. By God, he was going to treasure it.

Juliet responded by turning her face up to his and running her fingers down his cheek. Her soft mouth curved with that smile of reassurance and he pressed his lips against it very gently, for fear that his impertinence would wipe it away and that she would pull back from him, the charm of the moment destroyed.

Instead, she pulled him closer. She ran her fingertips across his eyebrows and traced a line down his face and across his lips before pressing a soft kiss onto them. As her touch blazed through him, he felt like he'd been given a gift he was not worthy of. He'd blown her chance to leave that place forever, but she still held him and kissed him and pressed herself against him , her fingers in his hair, her lips seeking his tenderly at first, then in exploration.

When she pulled her shirt over her head, he knew he'd done nothing to deserve her generosity and everything to deserve her anger.

"Are you sure?" he whispered into her ear as she ran her hand over his shoulder.

"Are you?" she asked softly, teasing his earlobe with her tongue.

He couldn't answer her then because his breath caught in his chest as she ran her hand down into the waistband of his boxers, her fingers caressing the hollow of his hip. Then she moved back up to his chest and down his arm.

She took his hand in hers and stroked his fingers one by one as if she were memorizing them. Every touch made him grow harder, his breath shallow as he tried to control himself. His muscles tensed with desire, but he did not want to break the spell she cast over him.

Carefully, he ran his hand down her back and over her hip, exulting in the sigh that escaped her.

He guided his fingers across her ribcage and stroked the curve of her breast with his thumb. She kissed him again, her mouth pulling at his ever so slightly, asking just a little more of him.

He suddenly grew nervous, as if it were his first time. He'd been with more women than he could count. He'd shown them all manner of good times and had performed acts of sexual gratification that would make a pornstar blush. Even his couplings with Kate and Ana Lucia had been fiery and explosively passionate.

But he'd never been touched the way Juliet touched him, so leisurely, as if she had all the time in the world to be with him.

He knew how it felt to be desired, but he'd never felt this way before.

He'd never felt cherished.

As she continued to make slow, sweet love to him one inch at a time, guilt rose in him even as his excitement built.

"I promise you, Juliet," he whispered into her ear.

But she forestalled his words with a kiss. "You don't have to promise me anything, James. Remember, I stayed for this too."

When she finally brought him to the edge, he tumbled off it into her arms with a cry that sounded to his ears almost like a sob. He trembled and clung to her like a lost child that had finally found his way home.

All the words he wanted to say, all the emotion he'd never let himself experience, all the hurt that he'd walled himself away from – it all crowded his mind as he lay beside her, his fingers still tangled in her hair, his breath still coming in gasps.

"Please don't leave me." The words slipped out of his mouth before he consciously knew he thought them.

"I won't leave you, James," she promised.

He held her tightly, hanging on to her words like a lifeline in the darkness.

At last he slept and dreamed of her.


	20. Chapter 20 Is Where the Heart Is

Chapter 20 - Is Where the Heart Is

"I don't care what you say. Paul is dead."

"No. No, he isn't. I've seen pictures of him. He's married and has kids."

"It's a cover-up. You're going to tell me that the crap this Wings group is putting out is anywhere near the work he did with the Beatles?"

"What do you mean crap? 'Live and Let Die' is groovy."

"It's overblown, theatrical sell-out bullcrap. A year from now nobody will even remember it."

"You are such a dumbshit, Phil. Paul McCartney is alive and well and the Beatles are planning to get back together."

"That'll never happen," Phil laughed.

_You finally got something right, Phil,_ James thought to himself.

"It can't happen because Paul is dead," Phil launched his conclusion at his co-worker Lamar with a smug self-confidence James wanted to wipe off his face with his fist.

The graveyard shift in the observation room had become his personal torture chamber. Phil was a complete douchebag and Lamar wasn't much better. James kicked back in his squeaky, nonergonomic office chair, rested his boots on the counter, stared at the flickering surveillance monitors, and tried to ignore them.

If he was back home right now, he thought to himself, he could buy a ticket to see the Beatles – one at a time. That would still be pretty cool. And he could store up all kinds of memorabilia and sell it later and make a killing. Yeah right. By the time it was valuable, he'd be in his seventies. He'd be better off making sports bets or playing the stockmarket. He wondered how much Microsoft stock was going for or if it was even available.

"You really need to be listening to the new stuff coming out – disco. That's the future of music," Phil added in a superior tone.

"Well, I'm out of here." With that pearl of wisdom, James decided he had heard enough. He pushed away from the console and stood. "If Peterson's got a problem with it, just tell him to come see me tomorrow."

"What if the hostiles attack?" Lamar asked.

"Sound the alarm," James replied in his most businesslike manner. Richard's people had been quiet for months – ever since he and his group arrived. Sure there was harassment at the Orchid site, but mostly of the pain in the ass variety. There hadn't been a full-on attack on any Dharma people since they shot Amy's husband Paul.

He climbed the stairs out of the underground bunker and walked home. It wasn't quite midnight yet, he thought. Maybe Juliet was still awake.

He opened the door of the house – no locks needed in Dharmaville – and looked around the living room. It was dark. Down the hall, Miles's and Jin's doors were closed. Daniel had left a week earlier headed to Ann Arbor.

When James heard that Dan was going to be allowed to leave, his biggest fear had been that Juliet would go too. He'd even asked her if she wanted to.

Granted, he did pop that question late one night after sex. Not his most shining moment, but he was prepared to play dirty if needed to keep his little group intact. They wouldn't be much of a family anymore if mom and dad couldn't stay together.

In the past several months with the DI, they'd all made some friends. Horace wasn't a bad guy, and Juliet had hit it off with Amy. Phil and Radzinsky were assholes and Chang was the original boss from hell. But most of the Dharmans did their jobs, cooked out, played pingpong, and smoked a little pot on the weekends.

But his people still stuck together. James had to admit that he even missed Faraday despite the fact that the man had been a constant worry for him. Some days Dan was fine, some days he paced the floors talking to himself about constants and variables and time streams. Those days always ended with Juliet talking him down from going to visit little Charlotte.

"I just need to warn her," Dan would plead in a quiet serious voice. "I need to tell her to leave. She needs to know what happens if she comes back here."

"Daniel, she's four," Juliet would repeat just as softly and reasonably. "She won't understand anything you're telling her. You'll just scare her."

On those days, they'd all alternate shifts watching him to make sure he didn't turn kiddie stalker. The last thing they needed was for the DI to decide they had a pedophile in their midst.

Now that Daniel was safely away from the island, James could only hope the man's grief would heal itself without the constant reminder of his loss living on the next block.

He opened his bedroom door quietly.

"You're home early," Juliet greeted him from her side of the bed where she sat with a book in her hands.

"_Fear of Flying_," he read the title aloud. "Sounds applicable to this place."

"Like you wouldn't believe," she laughed and marked her spot. "How was your shift?"

He stripped out of his jumpsuit as he answered. "I nearly killed Phil and Lamar. Those two idiots make Frogurt look like Miss Congeniality with a Nobel prize for literature." He tossed the coveralls into the hamper. "Looks like laundry day is tomorrow."

"Right after your shift and a brakejob I'm doing on jeep two," she replied as she pulled her knees to her chest to rest her chin on them.

"We got any clean towels?" he asked, gathering a change of clothes.

She pointed into the closet. "Right where they always are."

He took out a towel and walked over to the bed and kissed her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Go take a shower. You smell like cigarettes," she added, wrinkling her nose. "Phil and Lamar need to quit."

"Just be glad they're smoking cigarettes and not pot. I'd come home high from the second hand smoke," he teased in response, then headed across the hall to the bathroom. The shower felt wonderful, even though the only shampoo they had left was a bottle of strawberry Breck. He needed to pick up more Dharma Shampoo for Men at the commissary while they were doing laundry.

He heard the door open. "You come to wash my back?" he asked suggestively.

"Nope. I've come to take a leak."

He pulled back the shower curtain enough to see Miles standing before the toilet. "Get the hell out of here," James snapped at him.

"You should have locked the door if you wanted privacy," Miles declared, then proceeded to flush.

"Son of a bitch!" James yelled as the water went from warm to scalding.

"Nope. She's a really nice lady," Miles commented sweetly as he washed his hands and departed, leaving the door standing wide open.

James finished his shower quickly and stepped out of the tub to see Jin at the door.

"Why are you showering with the door open?" Jin asked.

"Miles left it open," James snarled as he wrapped the towel around his waist.

"Why were you in the shower with Miles?"

"I was not in the shower with Miles." But even as he said it, he could see a teasing grin cross Jin's face. James stepped forward and shut the door in it.

He had just finished brushing his teeth when he heard a knock. "What now?" he snarled as he threw open the door to reveal Juliet standing there.

"I was just checking to see if you wanted something to eat before bed," she replied evenly. "But if I am disturbing you . . ."

He reached out and pulled her into the bathroom, his hands on her waist. He picked her up and set her on the vanity in front of him, then stepped between her legs right up against her. "Do I still smell like cigarettes?" he asked as he kissed her neck.

"No," she answered as her arms went around his bare back. "You smell like strawberries."

He kissed her again, trailing his lips down her neck and across her shoulder, pulling aside the thin strap of her camisole to reveal her soft skin. She sighed and ran her fingernails across his back, and he could feel himself becoming aroused. She wiggled closer and he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her silky top to cup her breast. Her nipple perked up against his palm, and he gave a little satisfied sigh of pleasure.

Then somebody knocked at the door. "What?" he snapped at them, pulling away from Juliet reluctantly and helping her down.

"I need to brush my teeth," Miles explained. "Time for bed." Then he glanced back and forth between them. "Unless you two know that already."

James snatched up his clothing and followed Juliet out of the room and across the hallway to their bedroom where he closed the door firmly and turned the lock.

Juliet just laughed. "We should put in for a house with a second bathroom," she declared as she crawled onto the bed.

"We should put in for a house period," James countered as he dropped the towel into the overflowing hamper.

"You mean move out? Just me and you?" she asked.

He slipped between the sheets naked and pulled her into his arms. "Yeah, Blondie. Just me and you." He kissed her shoulder and renewed his attention to her breast, but she just lay still beside him. "You okay?" he asked after a moment.

"I'm not sure about that," she answered, her voice a little distant. "Living together."

"Well, hell, sweetheart, what does it look like we're doing now?" he asked. "Sleeping in the same bed, eating in the same kitchen, washing our hair in the same shower. I think we're living together."

"Not really," she declared and sat up. "We're all living together. As a group, not as a couple."

He moved away from her a little then and lay on his side, pulling his pillow beneath his head to look up at her. "Well, I want to live together as a couple then. Just us. No more pesky kid brothers barging into the bathroom just when we're getting it on next to the toothpaste. No more wondering if they can hear you calling out my name in ecstasy. Our own place with our own stuff."

"Really?" she asked, a significant layer of disbelief in her voice.

"Yeah, really. I want us to be happy."

She lay down beside him again and took his hand in hers. "Okay. I'll move in with you."

"Okay," he agreed, trying to keep his voice as businesslike as hers, but he couldn't help the smile that spread across his face.

-0-

A couple of weeks later, the house opened up when Peterson went back to the States. Among the many reasons James knew he wanted the job of Head of Security, topmost on his list had to be the house that came with it.

He'd never really had a house of his own. Not even to rent. He'd spent his life on the move, going from apartment to motel room to apartment with the occasional side trip to jail. Houses meant permanence and he'd always preferred the temporary with its promise of an easy getaway if needed. Having his own house with his name on the paperwork was a novel experience. He felt a little uncomfortable, but also like he'd achieved something.

When he walked in the front door for the first time, his key in his hand, he remembered his father.

His daddy used to come in the door when he was a little boy and call out, "I'm home!" And before things got bad between them, his mom would come out of the kitchen and run to him with a hug and kiss. He remembered being so happy then, feeling like he was in the best place in the world.

"Someday all this will be yours," his daddy used to tell him as he gestured around the old Victorian. "It used to be my daddy's and one day it'll belong to you, Jimmy."

The house was sold to pay debts after his parents' deaths. He didn't even know if it was still standing.

Now in that empty living room with the key to his house in his hand, he couldn't stop his throat from clenching with emotion as he whispered to himself, "I'm home."

"James?" her voice called from the kitchen. "Is that you?" Juliet walked through the doorway, wiping her hands on a towel. "The back door was open so I brought over a few things so we could have dinner in our new place."

His throat tightened even more and he made himself nod. She walked up next to him and kissed him. "I'm glad you're home," she said with a smile. "I made spaghetti."

"Mmm," he forced himself to reply, still not trusting his voice with words.

"You okay?" she asked, looking up at him curiously.

He couldn't answer her for the weight of the years and the pain and the hope she'd brought to him. So he pulled her close instead and buried his face into her hair, her long beautiful blonde hair that smelled like strawberries and sunshine – like home.

-0-

He stirred the huge pot on the stove, one eye on the clock. Juliet would be home in just a few minutes and he wanted everything to be ready. One last look in the oven satisfied him and he pulled out the hot glass dish and placed it carefully onto the counter to cool.

The front door opened and he felt himself grin widely. She was home.

"Hey," Miles called out to him. "Something smells good."

"Hey, yourself." James tried not to sound completely disappointed. Miles had a long box in his hands. "Whatcha got there, Number One?"

"I would not have taken you for a Star Trek fan," Miles sighed as he dropped the box onto the dining table, shoving his carefully laid place-settings out of the way to do so.

"Sure I was. Had a real thing for Tasha Yar. Love a blonde in a jumpsuit," James sighed, wishing his blonde was home. He looked down at the table to see a brand new edition of _Risk_. "Where'd you turn this up?" he asked, his stomach beginning to churn a little. They'd been playing _Risk_ the day Keamy showed up and shot Sheena in cold blood, just across the street. The day Claire went missing.

"Found it in the newest shipment from Ann Arbor. How about it? You and Juliet want to join me and Jin for a game?" Miles asked.

"Maybe later," James hedged. "Juliet's going to be home in a minute and I'm making dinner since I'm off for once."

Miles peered around him into the kitchen, "So what's cooking?"

James sighed and headed to the stove to stir the pot again. "Gumbo. Peach cobbler for dessert, if you must know."

Miles stood beside him, sniffing the air appreciately.

"If I give you some, will you go?" James asked.

"Yes. I will go."

James dished up enough to feed Miles and Jin. "We want some of that peach stuff too," Miles stated. "We're down to cheese toast or cinnamon toast at our place."

"What about Grace?" James asked him. "Aren't you still seeing her? She cooks."

"Nah. She decided to go back to the mainland," Miles shrugged. "It's okay. I've been talking to Patsy lately. I can probably start eating with her."

James wrapped the bowls in sheets of aluminum foil and put them on a tray. "Just talking? Just eating?" he teased.

"For now," Miles declared. Then he turned to James with a frown. "Do you have any idea how jealous of you I am? How unfair life is?"

"What are you talking about?"

Miles stared at him, his brown gaze hard and cold. "You and Juliet. Shacked up here together in your little love nest. Eating dinner and drinking coffee with dessert. You are so freaking lucky, Jim. I wish to God I could have gotten a shot at her."

James felt a surge of jealousy run through himself as well. "Well, I got there first, so hands off," he declared.

"Sure, sure." Miles took the tray from his hands. "I never had a chance anyway. She was goofy over you even before we shifted. I could tell."

Juliet had a thing for him before Dharma? The idea surprised and thrilled him. "Really?" he heard himself ask eagerly. "She did?"

Miles just walked to the table and set the tray down on top of his game, picking them both up to depart. "Yeah. I wish I had somebody. Somebody who understood." He sighed again. "Well, maybe we'll see you guys later. If you get a minute."

"Sure, sure," James agreed, opening the door for him since Miles had no free hands.

"So about seven?"

"Yeah, we'll be there. Seven."

Miles thanked him for the food and headed out the door back to their old place, which he shared with Jin.

James walked back into the kitchen deep in thought. Juliet liked him before the seventies. Did she? It was only when he noticed just how much of the peach cobbler was missing that he realized he'd just been played. "Son of a bitch. That conniving bastard got dinner and game night!" he shouted. But he didn't have the heart to chase him down and take any of it back.

Miles had a point. He and Jin were on their own. But James had Juliet. He was the luckiest man alive.

The front door opened. "I'm home!" she called. "Something smells good."

He met her at the door with a passionate kiss and lingering embrace. "I'm covered in grease," she tried to protest, but he just kept holding on.

"I don't care, Blondie. I've got a thing for girls in jumpsuits."

-0-

At ten thirty, the party had finally wound down. Miles picked up the dice in triumph. "I'm king of the world!" he declared. Jin just groaned.

"I told you the key to the game is Australia," Juliet commented as they packed up the pieces. "This was fun. We should play more often."

"Yeah," Miles added brightly. "That's a great idea! I love winning. Come let me destroy you again." Then he cackled a seriously evil laugh.

James picked up the lid to the box where it had fallen to the floor upside down. Inside someone had drawn a heart and inscribed it with the initials "J&J". "What the hell?" he whispered. That hadn't been there when he opened the box.

"I left us a souvenir," Juliet smiled. "Sometime in the future, somebody will see that and wonder who J&J are."

"I did," James admitted. "Hurley found this in the gameroom and made us all play. We wondered who these two were."

"Now you know," Jin commented. "Strange. I wonder what else we can leave for the future."

"We could bury stuff. Like a time capsule. And if we get back to the future we can dig it up and make money," Miles added.

James frowned at this. He'd already done that. The first day after he moved into the house, he'd cut into the floorboards in his room to make a secret compartment. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd need to stash there, but he had it ready.

"You ready to go?" Juliet asked, her words of readiness mirroring his thoughts.

"Yeah, sure," he agreed. They left Miles and Jin to finish packing up the game, and he took her hand in his as they walked down the path back to their house.

"You okay?" she asked. "You're being quiet."

"It's just strange all of a sudden. Being here now and also having been here then," he answered. Then a thought struck him. "I bet it's even weirder for you. Where did you live?"

She looked down at the ground, then answered, "Next door. The house we're living in was Tom's."

"No shit. I'm living in murdering, beard-wearing, kid-stealing asshole Tom's house?" Damn. He felt sick.

"No. You're living in our house. It was ours first, James. He lived in our house," she declared firmly, giving his hand a squeeze.

They opened the front door and walked inside. He spent two days painting the walls that color because that's what she wanted. She'd ordered him that bookcase as a first anniversary in the seventies gift. Her throw lay across the sofa where she liked to curl in the corner. His jacket hung from a peg in the hall. One of her slippers lay on the floor, the other in his chair where she'd thrown it at his head in mock anger the previous night. Just before he'd snatched her up from the couch and carried her to their bed in their room.

Damn it, this was his house. His and hers. Theirs. He didn't give a shit who came before or who'd come after. This was his house.

His home.


	21. Chapter 21 You Light Up My Life

Chapter 21 – You Light Up My Life

Horace pulled up a seat the couch as James passed him a beer. Juliet and Amy were in the kitchen cleaning up. It had been nice, but a little strange to have the boss and his lady friend over for dinner and few hands of Bridge. James still hadn't gotten the hang of the game and would have preferred poker.

"So how did you know that Juliet was the one?" Horace asked without preamble.

James's eyebrows rose as he considered the question. The one? What the hell?

But he had to give Horace an answer, so he popped the top of his beer and took a sip to give him time to think.

The first time he and Juliet met, she'd tasered him. Then he thought she was an Other spy. Then they got stuck together after the people they'd both been hung up on had vanished in a timewarp. Since then, they'd just been having a good time. Making the most of it. Playing house.

Weren't they?

This kind of introspection made his head hurt. But he remembered something. _James is right_, she'd said there in the jungle. Even though she hadn't believed his idea was any better than anybody else's, she still backed him. And when Juliet backed him, everybody followed.

"I made a command decision on the boat during the storm," James finally said aloud. "Everybody else questioned it, but she stood by me. I knew right then I could count on her. I've been counting on her ever since."

Horace nodded. "Funny how these things grow, isn't it? I mean, Amy and Paul had been on the outs for a while before he was killed. Paul wanted to leave the island and Amy wanted to stay. They went on that picnic that day to try to patch things up between them."

Horace glanced into the kitchen where Amy stood by the sink. James could hear her laughing with Juliet. "I'd been friends with both of them. I'd been through it too. My ex left me because she didn't want to be here anymore and I couldn't leave. When Paul died, I didn't even start thinking about Amy in any way other than as a friend until this one night out of the blue."

James kicked back and gave his friend an encouraging smile. "Go on," he teased. "Spit it out."

Horace took a sip of his beer and actually blushed as he continued, "She came over early to help me set up snacks for a staff meeting at my house back a couple of months ago when Peterson was still here. Well, afterward she hung around to help clean up too. Having her there with me, just washing dishes in the sink – well, it felt right. So I kissed her."

"I'm guessing she didn't slap you or anything," James surmised, "seeing as how you two are over here as a couple."

"No," Horace laughed. "She didn't slap me. I asked her to marry me last night and she said yes."

"Well, that's fantastic, H! Congratulations! When's the big day?"

"Next month, nothing fancy. But I was hoping that maybe you'd stand up with me, best man style," Horace ventured, then took another sip of his beer.

That was unexpected. They'd known each other just over a year now. "Sure I will, if you want me to. I'm honored," James replied.

"Amy is asking Juliet to be her maid of honor, too. Our jobs here aren't exactly the kind that lend themselves to making close friendships, you know. Amy heads up recruiting and regularly pisses people off when she assigns them jobs they feel are beneath them. Of course, I regularly piss people off just by trying to keep the place running. But you two always keep it real with us, you know." Horace looked James in the eye then and added, "Out of everybody on this island, I know you'll be straight with me. Thank you for that."

James considered just for a brief second the enormity of the lies that stood between him and Horace Goodspeed. Then he recalled a promise he'd made the man over a year ago, that they'd be good members of the commune. And they had. When it came down to the safety of the people on this island, James would shoot Horace straight. That was his job.

"I appreciate the trust you put in me," James answered and put out his hand. Horace shook it, then pulled him up off the couch into a brief man-hug.

Just then, Amy and Juliet came out of the kitchen, Amy grinning ear to ear. "She said yes, Horace!" she squealed. James winced a little at the excitement, then stepped over to give the bride-to-be a congratulatory kiss on the cheek.

"Fantastic! So did Jim. We've got ourselves a wedding party," Horace declared happily and the two lovebirds exchanged a kiss. James stepped past them to stand next to Juliet.

"I have to wear a bridesmaid's dress," Juliet sighed in a whisper. "It's 1975. It will be awful. I guarantee it."

"As long as my tux ain't powder blue, I'm good," James answered, putting his arm around her and kissing her hair.

Fortunately, the couple didn't want to wait for elaborate finery to be ordered from the mainland and James and Juliet got away with wearing a plain suit and summer dress. The yellow floral dress, however, was seriously covered in ruffles. "You look like Debby Boone," James declared.

"Who the hell is Debby Boone?" Juliet asked as she stood before the hall mirror, adjusting the barrette in her hair one last time.

"'You Light Up My Life'? You don't remember that one?" When Juliet shook her head no, James sighed. "You ain't that much younger than me, sweetheart. 'Feelings'? Remember 'Feelings'?"

"Sorry," she answered calmly, then looked up at him in complete innocence. "Am I wearing enough lip gloss?"

"You look like you've been sucking a pork chop, so I'd guess you are," he teased. When she turned back to the mirror with a tissue to begin removing some, he took her hand in his and stepped in front of her. "I was teasing. You look absolutely beautiful. Don't go changing to try to please me."

"Oh I do know that one! Billy Joel! I love Billy Joel!" she cried joyfully.

"Well, I know all the lyrics to 'Piano Man' and I'll sing it to you tonight when we get back. But right now, we gotta go or we'll be late," he declared, pulling her toward the door.

She grabbed her bouquet from the side table and they walked out of the house into the sunshine of a beautiful wedding day.

-0-

That evening, the party wound into to the night under the paper lanterns lighting the patio. Miles was on his third piece of cake. Jin toasted the bride and groom and left early.

James wished he and Juliet could bug out as well, but as members of the wedding party, he and the ruffled maid of honor were obligated to stay until the last rice fell. She leaned against his shoulder and his hands rested on the sash at her waist as they swayed together to the sounds of Neil Sedaka and John Denver.

"Time in a Bottle" began playing over the makeshift sound system. "There never seems to be enough time to do things you want to do once you find them," he sang into her ear.

"Time, huh?" Juliet looked up at him. "We just found thirty years' worth."

"I know," he laughed. "Crazy, isn't it."

Then her eyes went dark and she frowned and put her head back against his chest. "They're all going to die," she whispered. "Sometime about twelve years from now, all these people are going to die."

"Shh," he ran his fingers into the curls of her hair and rubbed her neck gently. "We won't let that happen. Before it does, we'll warn them."

"But it happens, James. We know it happens. I've seen the bodies in a big pit, all wearing Dharma jumpsuits with their names on them." Her voice shook and her fingertips dug into his arms.

"Did you see LaFleur on any of them? Or Juliet Motor Pool?" he asked.

"No," she answered quietly.

"Then don't worry about it right now. We can't do anything about that tonight," he assured her. "Right now, you just dance with me and be happy. All we've got is right now. We can't ask for anything else."

The song finished and he took her hand to lead her back to the refreshments for another glass of champagne. He figured they both needed it.

She drank her champagne and looked up at him again and gave him a tremulous smile. "You okay, sweetheart?" he asked, running his fingers over her cheek.

She nodded and they headed back out to the dance floor to the strains of Dolly Parton singing "I Will Always Love You."

"I forget how pretty this version is," Juliet commented. "I always think of Whitney."

"Whitney who?" Amy asked as she and Horace danced past. "This song just came out."

"Not Whitney, sweetheart," James covered. "You're thinking of Barbra and a totally different song."

"Oh, yes, you're right," Juliet forced a laugh. "I think I've had too much champagne."

"We're about to toss the rice and make our getaway," Horace stated. "Not that we can go far, just to Hydra for a few days. Maybe we can feed the polar bears."

"We need to build a little cabin in the woods," Amy suggested. "Some place we can just run away to when things get weird."

"That's not a bad idea, Ames," Horace agreed. "I'll start checking out some plans."

Juliet had stiffened in his arms during this discussion and he rubbed her back to let her know he understood. He'd heard too many tales of a cabin in the woods to feel entirely comfortable himself. He wondered for a minute how Hugo was making it back in L. A. He hoped he was safe and happy at home.

When the music stopped, Horace stepped out into the center of the dancefloor with Amy and announced their departure. Quickly the guests grabbed handfuls of rice from the baskets on the table and made a double line leading down toward the boat dock. At the head of the line, James shook Horace's hand while Juliet gave Amy a quick hug and kiss on the cheek.

"You guys have fun," James called as the newlyweds ran through the line in a shower of rice. At the foot of the dock, Amy turned back to toss the bouquet to the women who gathered around her.

"Go get 'em, tiger," James encouraged her with a little push as Juliet hesitated.

"That's okay," she said, taking his hand and leaning against his arm instead. "I don't need it."

"Come on, Debby. Let's go to the house," he suggested with a smile.

"I still have no clue who Debby is," she declared, stifling a yawn.

He slipped his arm around her waist and began to sing softly, "You light up my life/You give me hope/To carry on/You light up my days/And fill my nights with song." At her look of mystification, he added, "My Aunt Noreen loved that song. And you don't remember it?"

"Keep singing," she instructed. "Maybe it'll come back to me." Then she gave him one of her most even of even looks, the kind that promised all kinds of quality time together if he played along.

"Rolling at sea adrift on the waters/Could it be finally I'm turning for home?/Finally a chance—" He froze. With a smile, he covered by humming a few bars. "Sorry. I forgot the words," he lied.

He hadn't forgotten the words. They were imprinted on his brain in bright flashing letters. _Finally a chance to say 'Hey, I love you.'/Never again to be all alone._ His heart pounded in his chest.

In his previous relationship lexicon, 'I love you' had become nearly as meaningless as 'I'm sorry.' He'd only said it one time and meant it. And the person he said it to hadn't returned the favor. Then she'd used him as her backup lay, left the island, and never come back.

He used to lie in bed and wonder if maybe he shouldn't have said it. If maybe she'd have kept her interest in him if he'd stayed just a little more mysterious about his feelings.

_That was then, this is now_, he reminded himself. Kate was gone, Juliet was here.

Soon he lay in bed and watched Juliet take down her hair. With every pin she removed, a long, looping blonde curl cascaded down her back. She picked up a brush, but he called out to her. "No. Leave it alone. Come to bed, Blondie. Just the way you are."

He pulled back the sheets and held out his arms to her. She lay down next to him, that long blonde hair spiraling across his chest. Maybe it was the night of Seventies love songs. Maybe it was seeing Horace and Amy so happy together. All he knew was that he'd left something unsaid between them.

"Hey," he began, not sure exactly what he meant to say next.

The glow of the bedside lamp illuminated her face when she looked up at him.

"I have to ask you something," he continued weakly.

"So ask me." She smiled at him with a smile that healed him.

"Why me? Why did you pick me?" he asked.

She frowned a little and shook her head. "Why did I pick you, James?" she repeated in confusion.

"Yeah. You knew all about me. You knew my story, what I've done, who I am. You should have run away from me. Why did you stay?" The words just tumbled out of him and the instant they did, he wished he could rein them in.

"Forget it," he backpedaled. "Forget I asked."

"No," she stated firmly. "That's okay. I want to answer. I read your file back when Ben first came to me and told me about the plan to take you, Jack, and Kate. You sounded like a terrible person with a terrible past."

His heart sank. He shouldn't have brought it up.

But she continued, "I changed my mind about you when Richard came by. He picked up your file and glanced through it. Then he put it back down and said, 'Don't judge this man by what you see here. He's much more than this.' I tried to get him to explain, but he wouldn't say any more. I'm guessing he was remembering now."

"He was right, James. You are so much more than that file. I picked you because I wanted to. I wanted to be with you," she declared and her touch on his cheek sent a wave of peace through him.

James lay there and considered her words, his fingers playing with the curls of her hair. "So, do you love me?" he heard himself ask anxiously. She'd never said the words to him. He'd never said them to her. By some sort of unspoken agreement they just didn't go there. But in that moment he needed to hear them from her. He needed to know.

She was quiet against him for a long moment. "I'm not very good with relationships, James," she finally stated in a whisper. "I thought I loved my husband, but he didn't love me. I had an affair with a man on the island but Ben had him killed. I'm not so sure about loving people anymore. Let's just keep doing what we're doing and not worry."

"So what are we doing? Playing house? Killing time?" James asked, his voice thick with sudden emotion.

"We're sticking together. Just you and me. I've got your back and you've got mine," she replied, her arms gripping him even tighter. "Maybe that's better than love." She took a breath then continued, "Maybe that is love. I just know that I need you here with me. I couldn't do this without you."

That would have to be his answer, he decided. She needed him. She wanted him.

Then she turned the question back to him, "Do you love me?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, I do."

"Thank you, James," she answered and snuggled closer to him, her breath warm against his neck.

He tangled his fingers into her hair and tried to just let himself be with her, with her arms around him, in this safe and quiet place that belonged to them, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to hear her say the words.


	22. Chapter 22 Nightstalker Part 1

Chapter 22 – Nightstalker Part 1

Horace dropped a large piece of blue and white metal onto his desk. At the sight of the numbers emblazoned across it – _815_ – James felt his stomach drop. _Impossible_, he thought to himself. _There is no way that could be a piece of the plane._

Tentatively, he reached out to touch it and to his relief found the piece was not metal but fiberglass. "Where'd you turn this up, H?" he asked, his heart still pounding.

"It washed up on the beach across the island," Horace explained. "What do you think it came off?"

James shook his head and thought for a moment. "Well, after that blasted monsoon there's no way to know. Shipwreck? Piece of junk blown ashore? Did they find anything else?"

"Nope, just this," Horace replied. "Dr. Chang wants you to go check it out for us. Make sure there's nobody attached to this piece of wreckage."

"Sure thing, boss." James rose from his desk and picked up his walkie and to call in some backup.

"Take a rifle," Horace declared. "And some real help. Phil is a nice guy and everything, but I'm not sure he's up for this one."

"What do you mean?" James asked, even though he had his suspicions.

"Remember what happened to your crewmates? The ones who went nuts? We think it might be some kind of virus. The doctors at the Staff have been trying to isolate it. If you find anybody out there, you might need to subdue them the hard way," Horace explained sadly.

"I'll take Jin," James agreed – _and Juliet, _he decided privately.

-0-

"Blondie?" James called as he hit the front door. "You home?"

Juliet came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. "Yeah. What's up?" she asked as she gave him a quick kiss hello.

"We're going on a road trip. Me and Jin." Quickly, he explained the situation. "You game to come along?"

"Let me get my purse," she quipped.

A few minutes later they had collected Jin with Miles right behind. "You guys aren't leaving me here by myself," he declared.

"Don't you and Patsy have a date tonight?" James asked. "I didn't want to interfere with you finally getting some."

"Ha ha. Very funny, Jim," Miles snapped. Then he reached out to take the rifle James offered him and his mood softened a little. "Glad to see you at least brought me a rifle."

"I'm serious about not spoiling your date," James replied. "You don't have to come."

"Nope, I'm with you guys," Miles declared.

-0-

"I wish to God I'd stayed at the barracks," Miles moaned as darkness fell over them. He limped heavily on his twisted ankle, despite Jin's arm of support around him.

"Just a little further, Rambo, and we'll have you home," James sighed as he stretched his own shoulder painfully and checked out Juliet's bruised cheek from the corner of his eye.

"You okay, baby?" he asked her quietly once more.

"I'm fine, James," she answered him in a tired voice. Then she stopped him so she could check the long painful scrape that ran down his face. Her fingers were gentle as she smoothed back his hair and looked deep into his eyes. "It's you I'm worried about. You took such a hard fall. Are you sure nothing's broken?"

"Nothing but my pride," he laughed, then had to stop because the motion made his head hurt.

It had been a miserable day. Indeed they'd run across two survivors from what appeared to be a sailboat dashed apart on the rocks in the monsoon. Unfortunately, both survivors had already fallen prey to whatever disease or virus or madness that possessed so many to hit the beaches of that god-forsaken place.

The couple had appeared so reasonable at first. They'd set up a makeshift camp on the beach with salvaged supplies from their wrecked boat. After their initial surprise at seeing someone else on the island, they'd been happy at their apparent rescue.

But when James began to ask about any other passengers on the boat, their friendliness began to slip.

"No. We were alone on the boat. Just the two of us," the man said gruffly.

"You sure about that?" Miles asked, holding up a child's shoe he'd dug from a small pile of kids clothing and toys that lay to the side of their camp.

The man and woman looked at each other and without another word, proceeded to attack. The woman threw a hard punch straight into Juliet's cheek. James leaped at her, knocking her to the ground before she could throw another.

The man picked up a piece of wood from their fire and threw it straight at Miles. The burning embers flew as Miles dodged the fiery missile. Then the man dove into a pile of belongings, retrieved a flare gun, and proceeded to aim.

A rifle cracked from James' side as he wrestled with the insane woman on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wisp of smoke curl from the barrel of Jin's rifle. The man fell back, the flare shooting harmlessly over Miles's head and into the trees.

"Sam!" the woman screamed and kneed James as hard as she could right where it hurt the worst. She slipped free of his grasp and managed to dodge Jin's tackle as well, heading toward the rocky beach to their south.

Miles and Jin set off in hot pursuit, and James let Juliet give him a hand up. Then he shook himself free of the pain and they joined the chase. They caught up to Miles and Jin as they wrestled with the now fully incoherent woman as she kicked and fought them.

"I ain't never hit a woman before," James muttered to himself as he drew back his fist. But Miles and Jin were only just barely holding her as it was, and with a terrific jerk, she pulled her arm free of Jin's grasp and ran straight toward a steep dropoff.

Miles held onto her in vain as she dragged him over the rough terrain. He stumbled hard and fell, pulling her down with him; however, she scrambled to her feet and ran straight for the edge of the cliff.

James saw his opportunity and leaped forward to catch her, attempting to pull her back from the dropoff that lay directly in her path. Unfortunately for him, she had no intention of going easily and threw herself backward off the bluff, heedless of what lay beyond.

He tried to keep his grip tight on her arm but quickly realized he couldn't break her momentum. At the edge, he fought to keep his balance as she leaned heavily away from him. His feet slipped against the rocks, and he knew he had to let her go. But instead of falling away from him freely, she snarled and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him over the side as well.

He fell several feel below, slamming face first into the next outcropping. He grabbed at the craggy face of the bluff, but felt himself continue to slide against the rough surface as the woman tumbled past the edge, continuing to pull him with her. As his fingers clenched into the crevices, his shoulder popped painfully with the struggle to hold himself back from the edge, his collar cutting into his neck where her fingers still clung to his shirt.

Finally, her grip broke and she continued to fall down the cliff face, finally plummeting a bone-crushing thirty feet to the lowest level before a large wave broke over her body and carried it away.

"James!" he heard Juliet scream his name above him. "James!" He looked up to see her terrified face hovering over the edge of the bluff.

"I'm fine," he assured her, though in that moment he didn't feel fine. His head hurt, his face hurt, his shoulder hurt, and his balls were killing him. Miles and Jin reached down to help haul him back up, the pressure on his injured shoulder almost unbearable.

"Are you okay?" Juliet repeated as she grabbed him in a tight embrace. "Are you hurt?"

_Only where you're squeezing me_, he wanted to say, but he was so happy to be in her arms he didn't. He just let her hang onto him as they wearily stumbled back to the campsite.

The man lay where he'd fallen groaning in pain from his gunshot wound. James watched in pride as Juliet's healer instincts took over and she knelt beside the man to see what she could do for him. "Karen," the man whispered. "Where's Karen?"

"She's gone," Juliet replied, her voice calm and soothing.

"Mark?" the man whispered then. "Where's Mark?"

"We don't know. Was he with you?" Juliet asked softly.

"Yes. My son Mark. They took him in the night," he answered roughly, then he began to shake and gasp for breath. "We were going to look for him but that man came. He told us we didn't have a son. We listened to him." The man took a series of shallow breaths. "Oh, Karen, why did we listen to him? Why did we believe him?" Then his eyes fluttered and he grew abruptly still.

Juliet passed her hand over the dead man's face and closed his eyes. Then she sighed. "What happened to them? What man came to them?"

Miles picked up a satchel and examined the baggage tag on it. "Lennon. Their name was Lennon," he declared, then tossed the bag into the pile. "They sure packed a mean punch," he added as he sat on a fallen log and rubbed at his ankle.

"What do we do with him?" Jin asked. "We left the van miles from here. And we don't have a shovel."

"They got a blanket or something?" James asked, tired to the bone of making the hard calls. His head hurt where he'd slammed it into the rocks and he knew his shoulder wasn't up to the task of helping to carry a body back to the DI.

Quietly they wrapped the man in a tarp they found and secured it as best as they could. Jin hefted it over his shoulder and they walked back to the cliff edge where Karen Lennon had fallen to her death. James sighed as they cast the man's body over the edge. What a waste.

A half mile away, they found another body, that of a man in his middle fifties or so. Juliet knelt beside him, but at first sight James could see plenty evidence of what killed him. He'd clearly been beaten to death. The ground was littered with fallen tree limbs and his skin was covered in bloody gashes and scrapes packed with tree bark.

"What happened to him?" Jin sounded as horrified as James felt.

Miles limped closer and knelt beside Juliet, placing one hand on the man's chest. Then his eyes half shut and he began to twitch and shake. "What the hell are you doing?" James demanded, unnerved by the display.

"His name was George Trentham. He was the captain of their boat, a small sailing charter. The Lennons were his only passengers, but he had another crewman that went overboard in the storm several miles off shore," Miles explained in a distant voice. "The first night they landed, Mark went missing. Then something came out of the jungle, something big and dark. It picked him up and looked through him. Then it beat him to death against the trees."

"And just how in the hell do you know all this?" James asked in utter disbelief.

Miles leaned back and shook himself. "I'm a medium, remember?" At James's look of mystification, he added, "Like when I found the French chick and Karl in the jungle. I sense things from dead people."

James sat down on a nearby tree stump, suddenly exhausted by the recollection of Miles sensing the bodies under the leaves, of the way Martin Keamy and his men had murdered that kid. "Yeah, Miles," he replied wearily. "I remember."

"This is a bad place to be," Jin commented in a quiet voice. "We need to take care of this body quickly and get back to the barracks."

"I agree," Juliet stated firmly. "Richard's people probably have the boy. He'll be fine with them."

"Kidnapped away from his parents doesn't sound fine to me," James replied angrily. "Sounds like we need to go after him."

"What? To put him in the Dharma Initiative? Don't forget, James, in a few years the Dharma Initiative will be wiped out. You want him to be there then? If the Others have him, it's because they want him. They left his parents behind for a reason," Juliet declared. "It will only cause trouble if we interfere."

"Fine," James agreed at last, mostly because the hair was beginning to stand up on the back of his neck. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. "Let's haul this guy over the cliff back there too."

The man was too big for Jin to carry by himself, so James picked up his legs, wincing against the pain in his shoulder. Juliet helped Miles, whose ankle had begun to swell badly. Somehow they made it to the cliff and dumped the body over the side, everyone exhausted and anxious.

James shouldered his rifle and turned away to peer into the jungle as an uneasy feeling began to creep over him. Something was watching them; he could feel it. In the distance he saw the tops of the trees begin to shake and sway and heard a noise like a faraway storm siren. He knew that sound. The smoke monster that attacked Keamy's crew had made that sound.

"We gotta get out of here," he informed the others urgently. "That thing is coming back."

The four of them hurried along the trail as fast as Miles's injured ankle would allow, Miles griping constantly about the pain.

All the way back, James couldn't shake a feeling of continual worry. He couldn't help but wonder about Juliet's plan to let the Others have the kid.

Maybe she was right. She knew a lot about this place. They'd never really talked about the past much—hers or his. Her days with the Others were sort of a taboo subject for them. And this kid didn't have parents anymore. He started to feel guilty about that, then decided that Sam and Karen Lennon had been destroyed before they even got there. The smoke monster had seen to that.

He'd seen what that smoke thing had done to Keamy's people. He'd watched it barrel through the barracks like a freight train of hooting, clicking fury. Was that thing still out there? Watching them? James just wanted his people all back at home safe and sound. They could talk about the kid later.

He glanced over at Juliet's bruised cheek. It looked awful, so he asked about it again. She assured him she was fine, but she was worried about him as well. He did his best to downplay her worry with a light response.

"No, really," she continued to question him, as she looked into his eyes. "Any double vision, blurring?"

"Nope, I see just fine," he answered, but he could tell she wasn't convinced. Something caught his eye over her shoulder and he peered into the jungle where a twist of black smoke slithered through the trees. Shit. "Smokey's here," he whispered.

She turned to look, but the dark wraith had pulled back into the foliage. "He's been following us," James informed her quietly. "Watching us."

"Then we better get back inside the fence," she surmised calmly.

They continued to make their way through the undergrowth, finally reaching the van as darkness enveloped them. James crawled inside to haul Miles into the back seat. Juliet supported his injured foot, but Miles still gasped in pain at the movement. They'd just settled him in when James saw the trees begin to rustle in earnest behind her. Leaping past Miles, he pushed Juliet behind him and brought out his pistol to aim it into the trees.

"We got no beef with you!" he shouted into the darkness.

The trees continued to rattle and move as if in a soft wind. "James?" he heard Juliet's voice behind him.

"You and Jin get in the van," James instructed, his eyes never leaving the jungle. "I'll be right back."

He took a few steps into the treeline, seeking a better look at the thing that hovered just at the edge of his vision. A tendril there, a wisp here. Black smoke trailed around the edges of the leaves and into the branches of the trees around him.

"What do you want?" he demanded of the darkness. "Come out and face me."

With that, an eight foot tall plume of black mist swirled out of the trees and hovered right over his face. Lights flashed into his eyes and he suddenly understood why Miles had said the smoke 'looked through' the dead man. James felt like his mind was being plundered for information, for memories.

The events of his life played in his head like a VCR on fast forward. The smoke paused the tape momentarily at his parent's funeral, then surged ahead to the moment the plane crashed on the island. Then it rifled through the events since, spending a few extra microseconds on the moments of time flash. _Ford_. His name echoed in his mind as if another voice had said it inside him.

Then as quickly as the smoke came, it withdrew into the trees, vanishing utterly.

It was gone. He knew that as completely as he'd ever known anything.

James stumbled back to the van, dizzy with the experience, his mind churning with memory like wreckage floating on the surges of a stormy sea. Juliet met him, her rifle at the ready. "What's wrong? What did you see?" she asked anxiously.

"It's gone now," he assured her, but his knees went a little weak and she helped him into the back beside Miles.

"Jin, let's get the hell out of here," she stated as she slid the door closed and hopped into the passenger seat. Jin threw the van into gear and they headed back to Dharmaville. Back home.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .


	23. Chapter 23 Nightstalker Part 2

Chapter 23 Nightstalker Part 2

He lay in bed that night next to Juliet and tried to sleep. He'd taken a couple of pain pills for his shoulder, but it still ached where he'd pulled something inside it. At least his headache had finally gone away.

"Are you okay?" she whispered as he shifted yet again in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he replied. "Maybe I'd better sleep in the guest bed. I'm keeping you awake."

"No. Don't go. I want you right beside me so I know you're okay." Her voice was quiet, so soft he could barely hear it.

"Baby, I'm fine," he assured her once more, taking her hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

"I saw you go over that cliff," she began, then paused and cleared her throat. "I saw you fall over the edge and I thought you were gone. I thought I'd lost you. I was so scared, James. I was so—" her voice broke completely then and she began to cry.

Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he pulled her into his arms and held her close to his chest as she wept. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you," she finally sobbed. "Please don't leave me, James." She took a deep breath and trembled against him. Then almost as an afterthought, she mumbled, "I love you."

She'd said it. His eyes began to sting. She'd never said the words to him before. She hadn't sounded passionate about it, but she'd said it. He fought back the urge to ask her to say it again. Instead he held her tighter, his fingers running into her hair. "I'm not going anywhere, baby. I've got you, you hear me? I've got you."

They clung to each other for a very long time before sleep finally took them.

-0-

_He dreamed that he stood at the edge of the treeline and watched it all happen as if he were watching through someone else's eyes. Miles and Jin wrestled with the crazy woman, then she broke free. He saw Miles stumble. He watched himself run forward and grab at the woman at the edge. Juliet had bent to help Miles, who rolled on the ground clutching his ankle. _

_Then as he watched himself tumble off the edge of the cliff out of sight, he saw Juliet's face turn white with fear. He heard her scream his name as she ran. _

_"James!" _

_He wanted to call to her from the trees, to tell her he was fine, but he couldn't speak for the smoke that filled his mouth and his vision. _

_-0-_

_He dreamed that he stood at the edge of the treeline and watched it all happen-this time all wrong. Miles and Jin wrestled with the crazy woman. Then Juliet leaped forward to try to catch her. _

_She was going to fall. _

_"No!" he screamed. "Juliet!" _

_-0-_

He woke up with a start. "Juliet!"

Her side of the bed was empty. He threw back the sheets, which had tangled around his legs in the night, and got up to look for her. His face hurt and his shoulder ached deep into the joint.

"Hey," she greeted him from the stove where bacon sizzled in a skillet. "I'm surprised you're up. You didn't sleep well at all last night."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "That means you didn't sleep good either. I should have slept in the guest bed."

"No. You're with me, remember?" she retorted with a smile.

He went to the stove and put his arms around her, enjoying the way her hair tickled his face and neck. "I remember," he replied.

Horace agreed with Juliet's decision to let the Others have the boy. James could only hope he'd be okay with them. Who knew? Maybe someday in the future, Juliet would meet him. Maybe if they all went back to their own time, they'd all get to meet him and know that he was okay.

Meanwhile, Radzinsky had come up with a plan to use Jin to map that area of the island. "I've been looking over Jin's survey maps and every place he marks as having possible electromagnetic interest has paid off for us. It's like he has a sixth sense about it or something," he commented.

_Or something_, James wanted to state, but if Radzinsky had any idea that the four of them were more sensitive to his electromagnetic anomalies because of their previous experience time jumping in them, he'd be more likely to have them dissected than ask for their help.

When James asked Jin if he was willing to do this, Jin's reply surprised him. "I think I am supposed to do this," his friend answered seriously. "If the stations aren't built, we won't crash. What happened happened and we cannot change this. But perhaps I will find the place with the power to bring Locke back to the island so we can all go home—to our own time. I will see Sun and my baby again."

"Then I guess you ought to go for it," James decided. "Just be sure to always take a rifle and a radio. No sense in taking chances."

He started to leave, then turned back. "Listen, Jin, that smoke monster is out there. I had words with it yesterday on our way back. I don't know why it left me alone but it did. Be careful."

"You saw it before, didn't you? Back before we shifted. When those men from the freighter attacked. What did it do?" Jin asked curiously.

-0-

_James shoved Claire through the broken window. "Miles!" he called. "Help me!" _

_Smoke rolled around him from the explosions that rocked the barracks. They were coming. Ben said they were coming to kill them all. _

_"Jim." Miles reached out to him. "Give her to me. I've got her." _

_Then James looked down at the woman he held. It was Juliet. She was covered in soot and blood. "No! No no no no!" Panic rolled through him like black smoke. _

_The dream shifted and he stood alone in the middle of the playground in front of their house. He watched in horror as Martin Keamy brought Alex out of the jungle. _

_"I'm going to kill her, Ben," Keamy said into his walkie. His voice was so soft, almost comforting. But he shoved Alex to her knees. "Say goodbye," he instructed._

_Suddenly the girl's hair shifted from dark curls to long blonde tresses. Now Juliet knelt on the ground in front of Keamy. "Goodbye, James," she said calmly, as if she were heading to work. _

_Smoke began to roil around James, black smoke that curled up his legs. _

_The shot rang out and Keamy walked away. _

_He ran forward but Juliet was gone. _

-0-

He woke with a start. It was dark outside, pitch black. He glanced over at the clock. 3:15. Damn it.

What was wrong with him? Ever since they'd gotten back from that damned shipwreck, he'd been plagued by nightmares. It was getting as bad as when they first crashed.

Juliet lay beside him, all warm and safe. He breathed a sigh of relief and glanced over at the calendar on the wall.

December 8, 1975.

He couldn't believe it was already December. A balmy breeze drifted in through the open window. In the jungle the seasons consisted of wet and less wet, so it felt like perpetual summer year round. He couldn't believe it was already December. In 1975.

Memories rushed back as he realized that several thousand miles away, his eight year old self would soon be settling in with his stuffed Snoopy in his arms to watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas."

His mama would pop some popcorn while his daddy lit the fireplace. Then they'd watch the show together and string popcorn for the Christmas tree.

In just a few days, he'd help his daddy pick out his mama's diamond earrings. In just a few weeks, his mama would give his daddy the pistol he shot her with.

It was the last Christmas they were all together. It was the last Christmas he was happy.

"Are you okay?" Juliet asked as she sat up next to him, her hand caressing his arm.

"I'm fine," he lied, though his voice choked in his throat.

"Does your shoulder hurt? I can get you something for it," she offered.

It did, but he shook his head no, not trusting himself to talk again. Far away in Alabama, the little boy he used to be lay in bed with his Snoopy and dreamed about getting a Spirograph or a new bike. That little boy had no idea that his entire world was about to be destroyed.

"Can we change things?" he heard himself ask her aloud. "What if we went back home and tried to change something? What would happen?"

Juliet rubbed his back and didn't say anything for a long moment. "Daniel said we can't change anything," she finally answered softly. "Whatever happened happened. I'm guessing that if you tried to change the past, you'd only fail or end up causing the very thing you tried to stop."

He tried to imagine himself standing on his front porch telling his mama not to fall for Tom Sawyer. He tried to see himself talking his daddy out of murder. They wouldn't have any idea who he was. Maybe it would be his warning that put the idea in their heads in the first place.

In that moment, he knew Juliet was right. If he went home, he wouldn't be able to change a thing.

But it scared him how easily he could imagine himself standing at the far edge of the graveyard, watching his parents' bodies being lowered into the ground. He could vividly see himself watching the little boy he used to be sobbing in the back seat of his uncle's red Ford sedan. Somehow he knew that if he went back to Jasper and tried to interfere, he'd only end up making it happen. And if he did, he'd have to find that godforsaken pistol and shoot himself with it.

"It's our last Christmas," he admitted as he turned back to Juliet. "Back home this is going to be my last Christmas with my mom and dad."

She nodded, her eyes full of sympathy and tears. Tears for him. "If you want to try to change it, I'll go with you, James," she offered.

But he could hear in her voice that she didn't think it was a good idea. He agreed. "No." His answer was firm. "What's done is done. I couldn't change it if I tried, no matter how bad I wanted to."

But saying it didn't make it feel right.

-0-

He made it through the next day without thinking about it. Jin finished the first of his surveys and came back with a frown on his face.

"Radzinsky's found the site for our hatch," Jin announced. "I marked it and four other possible locations, but he went right for the spot where Desmond's station used to be."

James sighed. "Of course he did. It's got to be built and he's got to build it." He tried not to sound bitter, but the idea of that damned hatch actually being built on his watch made his stomach churn. It was like the end was being written before the beginning. Like nothing he did had any meaning or purpose since it was all going to result in the same conclusion. His parents would die. His plane would crash. He'd be stuck here in the past unable to change a damned thing.

He sent Jin home early and worked the rest of his shift in solitude. Phil and Lamar came in on time for once and he left them with barely any instructions for the night shift.

When he got home, Juliet lay curled up on the sofa asleep. "You okay, baby?" he asked.

She rolled over and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I got off early," she yawned. "So I lay down for just a minute. What time is it?"

When he told her it was after five, she leaped up and ran to the kitchen. "I've been asleep for three hours!" she groaned. "I've got to do laundry and bake a cake for the shop Christmas party. Not to mention make dinner for us."

"Hey," James put his arms around her, "slow down a minute. It's my fault you were so tired. I've been keeping you up. So you go bake the cake and I'll get the laundry started, okay? We'll have sandwiches for supper."

She leaned into his arms for a moment, then kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you," she said. As she pulled away and opened the refrigerator, she added, "I love you," in the same tone she would have used for "we're out of milk."

"Well, I love you back," he stated with a wry laugh. Then he stepped forward and gave her a firm pat on the rear end just when she bent over for the eggs.

She yelped in surprise and turned back to him, her face bright with laughter. "I nearly dropped those," she complained in mock anger. "You're going to pay for that."

"Promise?" he drawled, pouring the sexy on thick and giving her a rakish grin.

"Oh, yeah, I promise," she answered in her own sexiest voice. But when he started to move on her, she added, "After cake and laundry."

"Yes, ma'am," he capitulated and headed to the bedroom for the basket of clothes.

By the time the last load was dry, night had fallen in the jungle with the abruptness of a curtain draping the world. He pulled the hot towels out of the dryer and loaded them up in the basket to head back to the house.

The clothes smelled good, all sweet and fresh. He remembered when he was a little boy how his mama used to wrap him up with the hot towels out of the dryer in the winter. In summer, she'd hang them on the clothesline where they'd get all stiff like cardboard.

But in winter when the weather was chilly, he'd get to roll up in those hot, soft towels that smelled April-fresh.

He passed the spot where Keamy would shoot Alex thirty years from now. Ever since his dreams started replaying the event nightly, he couldn't walk past that place without thinking of it.

He tried to look away, to ignore it, but a flash of blonde hair caught his eye as it passed into the stand of trees that bordered the spot.

Juliet? What was she doing out here? She was supposed to be icing her cake. Curious, he followed her into the trees, moonlight catching on the long blonde strands as she wove through the branches.

Before he knew it, he was at the sonic fence.

In the darkness he could just make out a blonde figure standing somehow on the other side, facing away from him. He started to call to her, but she turned toward him so that he finally saw the woman's face.

"Mama?" he whispered.

"Hey, Jimmy," his mother answered.

"How did you get here?" he asked, unable to believe his eyes.

"That doesn't matter. I'm here now. Come on out here where I can talk to you," she beckoned to him.

He took a step toward the fence, then realized it was on, probably set on brain-melt if he knew Radzinsky.

"You're not my mama," he stated firmly.

"Please, Jimmy," she begged. "I just want to talk to you. I just want to tell you I'm sorry."

James shook with equal parts fury and heartbreak. "Leave me the hell alone, whatever you are. 'Cause you ain't my mama," he called into the jungle.

The woman vanished into the darkness, and James caught the edges of smoke against the leaves.

When he got back to the house, he sat the laundry basket down in the floor and poured himself a stiff drink.

"Great! The laundry's all done," Juliet sighed. "So's the cake." A beautiful layer cake graced the center of the table, all smoothed over in creamy white icing. "I saved you the bowl."

He pretended he didn't hear the note of innuendo in her voice. Instead he knocked back his whisky and poured another. "Thanks," he finally said. "I'm just tired. You ready to lie down?"

She gave him a long, appraising look before calmly answering, "Absolutely."

He got ready for bed, the encounter with his mother in the jungle still playing over and over in his mind. He was losing it. Clearly.

He lay down and felt Juliet curl up against him, her hands warm on his back. "You feel good," he murmured.

"Promise?" she teased in response. But he couldn't follow through. He lay there, his thoughts racing as he wondered just what he'd seen out there.

At last, he drifted to sleep.

-0-

_"James," Juliet's voice was urgent. "They're coming! Wake up!" _

_He sat up and looked around. The bed was empty. Where was she?_

_He was back in Jasper. His big cedar chifferobe stood open in the corner. "Juliet!" he called. _

_He rolled out of bed, surprised to see that he was in his Dharma jumpsuit. He looked down at the pillows. His stuffed Snoopy lay there all clean and white, not like he'd seen it last, covered in his father's blood. _

_He headed out into the hallway, but the door led into his house in Dharmaville instead. The windows opened onto bright daylight. Martin Keamy stood there on the lawn in front of the house with his father. His daddy was showing Keamy his gun, as Keamy nodded in approval. _

_A noise behind him in the kitchen drew his attention away from the view, and he turned to see his mother. She held Juliet's cake in her hands. _

_"I've made dessert," she declared with a smile. "We can have coffee later." _

_Something flashed outside and he went to the door to investigate. Danny Pickett had joined Keamy and his daddy. "Bring her out!" Pickett yelled. _

_Pickett pulled his pistol out of his waistband and checked the cartridge. _

_Who were they going to kill? James wondered in desperate fear. Alex? Kate? His mother? Juliet? Where was Juliet? _

_In his dream-state, he began to panic as the dream flickered and shifted._

_Now he stood in his hallway in Jasper beside his mother's dead body. Then he stood on the lawn in New Otherton where Alex lay in a pool of blood, a huge hole in the side of her head. Next he stood beside the cages at Hydra Island as Pickett shoved Kate's face against the bars, gun at her temple. _

_Finally he stood beside the sonic fence, looking through the smoke where Juliet stood, a pistol in her hand. "I'm sorry, James," she said sadly. "I couldn't stop them." _

_She stepped through the fence and wrapped her arms around him. "But it's okay. I've got you, James. I love you." And in his dreams the words weren't afterthoughts. They weren't tinged with irony, half held back in self-defense. Her whole heart poured out behind them as she said them in his dream the way his soul longed to hear them. _

_"I love you, Juliet," he whispered into her ear. "I love you so much." _

-0-

He woke suddenly to a feeling of emptiness. Where was she? She should be holding him in her arms, telling him she loved him, banishing the specters of the past with her presence.

He opened his eyes to see the darkness of the jungle night. A cool wind blew across his skin and he realized he stood beside the sonic fence barefooted, wearing only his boxers and an undershirt.

"What the hell?" he murmured as he ran a hand through his hair. "How did I get out here?"

As if in answer, the trees across the way of the fenceline began to sway and a trail of black smoke played across the branches.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled at the apparition. "Leave me the hell alone!" He ran back to his house, heedless of his bare feet and snatched the keys to the weapons locker from the pocket of his coveralls.

Then he stalked back to the security bunker and retrieved what he needed.

Back at the fence, he opened the large box and pulled the pin on the first grenade, holding the trigger tight in his fist as he watched for his opportunity.

Within seconds the trees began to waver. "Come on out, you son of a bitch!" he yelled into the darkness. A tendril of smoke began to coalesce before him and he threw the grenade through the fence and into the stand of trees where the smoke flowed thickest.

The explosion rocked the ground and the smoke pulled away rapidly. "I heard you ain't fond of dynamite," James snarled. "Guess that was right." He snatched another grenade out of the box and lobbed it right into the same stand of trees, bringing one down with a mighty crash.

Four grenades later, James heard a voice behind him. "Jim! Hey, Jim! What're you doing, man?" Horace called.

"You're out late, H," James replied matter-of-factly, as he picked up another grenade and scanned the trees for smoke.

"Got a call from Lamar. He caught your act here on the monitors and thought somebody needed to come see about you," Horace replied, pushing his curly blond hair back out of his eyes. "So how about filling me in, Jim?"

"Just trying to blow up the past," James answered. He thought he saw a bit of movement behind a giant philodendron and reached for the pin on the grenade in his hand.

"Wait a second before you pull that one," Horace called to him and took a step closer, one hand outstretched. "Has it worked so far? Blowing up the past?"

James sighed. When he closed his eyes, the memories still ran in his consciousness like somebody had pushed the rewind button on his life.

"Nope. Not yet," he answered and tossed the grenade. The philodendron went up in a cloud of smoke and flame. Pieces of green leaves fell like confetti in the aftermath.

Horace bravely stepped forward and closed the lid on the grenade box. "Well, I'm not sure any more grenades are the answer then, man," he ventured. "Maybe you need to go back home and sleep it off. In the morning, you can have a talk with Oldham. He's pretty good with the aftereffects of a bad trip."

James blinked. Horace thought he was strung-out. The thought surprised the hell out of him, even though recreational acid use wasn't frowned on and in fact sometimes encouraged, depending on the experiment in progress. A sudden realization ran through him of where he was and what he was doing. Maybe he wasn't tripping, but he absolutely was out of his mind right that moment.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I'm going back home."

Horace picked up the box of grenades and gave him an encouraging smile. "Blowing up the past, huh?" Horace laughed. "I'll have to remember that one."

James walked back to his house, glad it was still dark and that the explosions had been far enough from the barracks that he hadn't woken the entire community.

Juliet sat on the porch, wrapped in a blanket. When she saw him approach, she dropped it and ran toward him. "Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been?"

He shook his head apologetically. "I'm sorry, Blondie. I had to get something out of my system."

"Horace said you were blowing up trees," Juliet replied in a disbelieving tone. "Just exactly what did you have in your system?"

"A lot, apparently," he answered, leaning into her so he could smell her hair and feel her body against his.

Thankfully, she didn't press him for more, but led him back into the house and to bed. He looked at the clock. Three in the morning. Again.

"We're both taking the day off tomorrow, okay?" she said as she slipped beneath the blankets beside him.

"Absolutely," he agreed and pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her. They lay there in the darkness for a long time, listening to the tick of the clock.

"It's been hard lately. Ever since we got back from that shipwreck. I've been having these awful dreams," he finally admitted.

"Want to talk about it?" she asked.

"Nope. I want to forget about it," he replied. "But I want you to know something, Blondie."

He pulled away so he could look her in the face. "I need you. I need you on my side more than you know."

"Well, I'm here," she answered, running her hand over his cheek softly. He took her hand and pressed his lips into the palm. "I've got your back, James," she whispered.

He wrapped her up in his embrace, taking comfort in her presence, daring the nightmares to return. "Thank you for staying with me. Thank you for being here," he murmured.

"No problem," she replied. "I love you." And this time it sounded like she meant it.

Before he could reply, she kissed him so thoroughly that the idea of talking quickly fled his consciousness. Some time later, he lay beside her, his skin pressed to hers, completely at peace once more. He could feel her fingers in his hair and he knew he belonged with her. He knew she wanted him, that she understood him. Juliet had chosen to be with him because she loved him.

"Thank you," he whispered as sleep began to drift over him.

"You're welcome," she replied.

At last he fell into a deep sleep – a dreamless sleep.


	24. Chapter 24 Open the Door

Chapter 24 Open the Door

Flashforward

_"Miles," Jim called as he knocked at Miles's bedroom door, aware that the clock down the hall was striking three. "Miles!" _

_When his roommate didn't answer, he just opened the door and went in. Miles lay spread across the huge bed like he'd washed up dead on the beach. His balcony door stood open, letting in the cool mountain air. _

_Jim shook him on the shoulder until he rolled over and opened his eyes. _

_"What?" Miles snapped at first, but as he stared up at Jim, he frowned and added more gently, "Something wrong?" _

_"We gotta talk," Jim stated and headed back out the door. _

_Behind him, Miles rolled out of bed and threw on a robe. "Finally," he griped. "After three years on that damned island, you finally want to talk. Great."_

-0-

James looked up from his desk to see Phil shifting from foot to foot anxiously. "What?" he asked gruffly.

"Mail from the mainland," Phil answered and dropped a stack onto the desk.

"Thanks." When Phil didn't leave, James looked back again from his report. "You need something else?" he asked, forcing himself to be patient.

"I was wondering about the opening at Hydra," the man replied. "Have you decided?"

"Not yet," James answered and went back to work, hoping he'd take the hint and leave.

Phil stood there for several long seconds, then finally said, "Okay," and left.

James put down his pen and took off his reading glasses with a sigh and a curse. He had to admit that he would love to transfer Phil to Hydra Island. The guy got on his nerves something awful.

But the work at Hydra could be dangerous. They were bringing in new animals and before the announcement had left Horace's mouth, James knew they would be polar bears. Whoever worked security on the smaller island was going to need a bit more in the combat credential department than Phil had.

He'd probably send Lamar and that would piss Phil off since he outranked him in seniority by a couple of years. But Lamar had spent time in actual law enforcement. Phil had been in marketing when the DI recruited him.

James sighed again. The mysteries of DI recruitment confounded him regularly. He stopped wondering where they got these weirdos months ago.

He glanced up at the clock, glad to see it was nearly five. He considered taking the mail home with him, then changed his mind. It would wait. Tonight Miles was cooking Mexican.

-0-

Juliet wasn't home when he came in, so he hopped into the shower. He'd spent the morning in the jungle helping Radzinsky patrol the Orchid site and his skin was sticky with insect repellent.

Construction was going slow there. There had been too many accidents with tools - unexplainable accidents involving metal objects leaping out of the workers' hands. Knowing what he knew about that place and time travel, James tried to get Radzinsky to slow down, to take precautions. But the man was hell-bent on finishing this station and starting the next – the Swan.

James stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. He was crossing the hall to the bedroom when he heard the front door open.

"That you, baby?" he called. He didn't get an answer, so he walked into the living room of the house. Several letters lay on the dining table.

A note lay on the top that read, "_You forgot the mail. Phil_."

What a suck-up. James sighed and thumbed through the stack idly until an envelope fell from his fingers to land on the table.

His knees buckled a little as he looked at it. It was a Bicentennial envelope nearly identical to the one he'd carried for better than twenty years. He dropped the rest of the mail and stared at it, memories flooding back. He knew it was not his letter. That letter lay in pieces on the rotting floor of a nineteenth century slave ship some thirty years in the future.

Still, his hand shook as he forced himself to open the letter and pull out the contents. It was nothing, just a yellow duplicate copy of a Dharma Initiative materials request.

All the same, his stomach clenched as the blue and red Bicentennial logo glared up at him.

The front door opened again and he forced himself to drop the letter.

"Hey, you," Juliet said as she entered the house. "Got room in that towel for me?"

"Yeah, sure," he tried to make his voice light, but she still gave him a funny look as she kissed him.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Sure, just had a long day. How was yours?" he asked. "Bus 4 still giving you fits?"

"Fixed it," she declared happily.

"I knew you could do it," he assured her. "Now go get yourself ready for dinner at Casa Miles."

He gave her a playful swat on the rear as she headed to the bathroom to shower and change. Once she was out of sight, he picked up the envelope again and methodically tore it into tiny pieces.

-0-

Two beers into dinner preparation, he and Juliet were dancing in the living room to some Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass. Jin just laughed at them from the sofa as Miles cursed at the jalapeno peppers he was slicing in the kitchen.

"I've got pepper oil in my eye!" Miles kept moaning from the sink until finally Juliet pulled her hips free of James's hold and went to help him.

"Ah, quit whining," James yelled over his shoulder to him as he dropped onto the sofa next to Jin. "Jalapenos aren't that hot."

Miles staggered into the living room, his eye bloodshot and running with tears. "Tell that to my eyeball, asshole."

James grimaced. "Yeah, Emeril, that looks pretty bad. You might need to pull back a little on the caliente next time."

"Hey, Miles," Juliet called from the kitchen. "I finished cutting these up. What next?"

"Next we roll enchiladas," Miles replied as he walked back to the counter.

James and Jin looked at each other. "What is caliente? And who is Emeril?" Jin asked.

James started to explain Cajun cooking, but Jin cut him off. "No need to explain. Want another beer?"

"Now you're speaking my language," James agreed. Jin tossed him another of Dharma's finest malt liquor.

"Do you remember drinking beer with Hurley when he found the van?" Jin laughed. "I actually used a couple of those English phrases on Sun that night."

"I hope not the bit about those pant don't make you look fat," James laughed.

"No, not that one," Jin answered, shaking his head. "But you know, every time I see Roger in his jumpsuit it gives me a bad feeling. Like I know what his fate is going to be."

James shook his head. "Don't let yourself start thinking like that," he instructed. "You gotta hang onto the here and now. Otherwise, trust me, you'll start to go off the deep end. You gotta pretend you don't know anything about anything after this."

Jin sighed. "I know. But I can't help it. Sometimes I think about where I am right now as a little boy in Korea." He took a long drink of his beer. "And Sun isn't even born yet. I can't even wonder what she is doing."

He sounded so despondent. James sighed. "Don't go thinking like that, Jin-bo. You've got to just keep your mind on the present. The past and the future don't matter right now. There's nothing you can do about them."

"Is that how you do it?" Jin asked.

"Do what?"

"Fit in so well here."

James gave him a long look. Fit in? How many beers had Jin had? Just then Miles called them to the table for hors d'oevres.

-0-

"Do I fit in here?" James asked Juliet that night as he opened the door of his house.

"What do you mean?"

"Jin told me I fit in here. Do I?" he asked her again as he tossed his keys onto the hall table.

"Well, you don't seem unhappy. And I think the job suits you," she replied. "Do you feel like you fit in?"

James shook his head. "I never thought about it. I'm just trying to make the best of things."

"I know," Juliet replied, then she turned away to the bedroom.

"Hey, Blondie," he called, stopping her with a hand to her arm. "You know that doesn't include you. You aren't part of making the best of it."

"I'm not," she echoed with a little smile.

"No, of course you're not." He ran his fingers into her hair and pulled her to him, resting his forehead against hers. "You _are_ the best of it."

She rested in his arms for a long moment, then asked, "Why don't you tell me what's really bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me," he replied as he pulled away from her. "I'm fine."

"No, you aren't, James," she declared. "You don't rest at night. Sometimes you talk in your sleep."

"I swear to you, I'm fine." He put as much confidence in his voice as he could muster, but the idea that he'd been talking in his sleep concerned him. What had he been saying?

"Whenever you're ready to talk, just let me know," she stated, then turned to walk down the hall once more. When he didn't follow, she reached back for him. "You coming?"

He nodded, then took her hand and went to bed.

-0-

He opened the door of his office the next morning only to find a letter in his inbox. The letter was in a Bicentennial envelope – Philadelphia this one said.

He turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him. He called to Phil and Miles who were working the monitor station. "I'm going to be out for a while today. You can get me on the radio if you need me."

Then he headed out the door and down the sidewalk. He didn't even consider where he was going until he found himself at the motor pool. Juliet stood in front of the big tool rack.

"Hey, Williams," he called to the other mechanic on duty. "I'm going to borrow Juliet and a jeep for the rest of the day, okay?"

"Sure thing," Williams replied.

Juliet grabbed a set of keys for one of the jeeps and tossed them to him. "Where are we headed?" she asked as they pulled out of the compound.

He didn't answer her at first. He didn't really know what to say. So he just drove into the green canopy of the jungle.

"I keep running into envelopes," he finally admitted. "Envelopes like the one I had."

"What envelope did you have?" she asked.

"You know. The envelope with the letter in it," he sighed. Why did she have to make it so hard?

"I'm lost, James," she declared. "I have no idea what you are talking about."

He stopped the jeep and looked at her. "The letter I carried around for twenty years. The letter for Sawyer."

"Sawyer? Your alias?"

"You read my file, Juliet. You know about this."

Juliet gave him a sad look. "James, I know your parents died tragically when you were young. I know you dropped out of school early and spent a lot of time in trouble. But that file didn't have all the details. If you want me to know, you're going to have to tell me."

He put the jeep back in gear and kept driving. All this time, he thought she knew.

After all Locke had known that the man in the brig had ruined his life. He'd just assumed Juliet knew as well.

They travelled a while longer in silence as the road turned into a trail. Finally Juliet spoke up. "We're leaving the Dharma area, you know. This is part of the territory that belongs to the Hostiles."

"I know," he answered. Then a thought occurred to him. "Does it feel funny calling them Hostiles?"

"Not really. They aren't the same people I knew. And I lived in the barracks for the most part," she replied.

"Was it hard being an Other?" he asked, suddenly more curious than he'd ever been about her life before Dharma, before him.

"Yes. I just wanted to go home. I missed my sister. All my patients died. I couldn't help a single one of them, but Ben forced me to keep trying," she declared in that flat voice she used when she was trying to stay detached.

"Why did you come in the first place?" he asked curiously. "Why did you stay?"

"My ex-husband was a very controlling person. Richard Alpert set me free of him. I came because I was grateful. I stayed because they wouldn't let me go."

"Tell me about it," he requested. So she did.

He didn't know what kind of image he'd held of her life before the island, but it was nothing like what she described. He'd always assumed she was like Jack – educated, successful, career-driven, powerful. This idea that she'd been trapped in a loveless marriage, then in an abusive business relationship, then with the Others here on Freaky Island didn't sit well with him. It wasn't her. It wasn't the Juliet he knew.

"I swear to you, Juliet," he declared when she finished, "I am going to get you back home again. I'm going to see that you have the life you deserve. You don't belong here on this island, not now and not then either."

She smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze. "But until then, we're going to make the best of it, right?" she asked lightly.

He nodded, but couldn't answer her. They'd arrived at their destination. Through the trees he could just make out the words on the stern – _Black Rock_.

"Wow. Is that really the _Black Rock_?" she asked curiously.

"You haven't been here before?"

"Like I said, I spent most of my time in the lab or at the barracks. I wasn't a very good Other," she declared dryly.

"Be careful. There's dynamite on board," he warned as they got out of the jeep and approached the wreckage.

It looked just like he remembered. They crawled through the same hole in the side Locke had led him through. The same skeletons still hung in shackles from the walls. The door to the brig in the back stood open.

He walked inside it, half-expecting to see Sawyer's body still hanging from the chains. He couldn't help look around on the floor for the pieces of the letter the bastard had torn up.

The room was empty. None of that had happened yet. None of it.

However, he recalled that somewhere in North Alabama, that bastard was probably making up to his mama right that minute.

"So why are we here?" Juliet asked.

James poked around the brig with a frown on his face. A length of chain lay several feet away on a wooden crate. He crossed the room, picked it up, and held it in his hands. Had it been this heavy before?

He dropped it again next to the center pole where Locke had tied up his prisoner and ran his hand over the rough wood. He'd been standing right here when the man ripped his letter apart. The pieces had fallen to the floor right there.

And he'd picked up the chain in a rage, wrapped it around Sawyer's neck, and strangled him to death.

But that wouldn't happen for another thirty years.

James closed his eyes. When he opened them again, nothing had changed. The post still stood empty before him. The chains still lay in easy reach, just like he'd found them.

Then he realized what he'd done. He'd moved the chains there just now. He'd set the stage. The end was written before the beginning.

"What's wrong, James?" Juliet asked. "Have you been here before?"

"In a few months, a man named Sawyer is going to seduce my mother and con her out of my father's life savings," he began quietly. "Thirty years from now, Ben's going to bring that man here to the island and I'm going to kill him right here on this spot."

She didn't say anything. She just stood there and waited for him to continue.

"Juliet, I murdered an innocent man in Sydney because I thought he was Sawyer. Pulling the trigger was the hardest thing I ever did. Maybe because I wasn't sure. Maybe because I never killed anybody before." He looked at her through the shaft of light that pierced the darkness of the room. Dust motes filtered past.

"But when I killed the real Sawyer, right here, I didn't hesitate. I didn't stop to think about what I was doing, about what it made me," he paused to take a deep breath.

"When I was a little boy, I wrote him a letter. I just wanted to find him and be sure he knew what he'd done. I never wanted to kill him. I just wanted him to know how bad he'd hurt me."

"Whatever else he did, he didn't kill my parents. My daddy did that." He had to stop and breathe a moment before continuing, "But the older I got the more I wanted Sawyer to pay for it. Now I'm no better than he was. I've done everything he did. Worse. Sawyer might have kept his hands clean," he grew hoarse and had to force the words out. "I killed him because that's what I am. I'm a liar, and a thief, and a murderer."

Hot tears began to stream down his face. "But when I look at this spot-" His voice broke. "When I see the place where I strangled an innocent man to death, I'm not sorry. I'm not a damned bit sorry for it," his breath caught in his chest. "What does that make me?"

She stepped forward close to him. Through the blur of his tears, he saw that she was crying too. "It makes you human, James. It makes you human," she stated as she put her arms around him. Then she held him as he put his face against her shoulder and cried.


	25. Chapter 25 -- Daddy's Boy Part One

Chapter 25 Daddy's Boy Part One

Miles paced outside James's office, finally bursting through the door impatiently. "Are you ready to go yet?" he demanded.

"Hold your horses, Banzai," James growled in return. "Let me finish this." James turned back to his report on the latest accident at the Orchid site. Writing these reports annoyed the crap out of him. He had to strike just the right tone and divulge just enough information to satisfy the folks at Ann Arbor without giving too much away.

Only a select few knew just how dangerous the place could be – the most recent accident had resulted in a worker losing three fingers when a saw leaped away from him. Dr. Chang had personally gone to investigate and despite James's warnings had authorized the continuation of the work.

"Just be certain the workers are careful," he'd admonished. "What we are doing here is too important to stop."

"Then how about warning them about these magnetic fluctuations?" James had asked.

"No. We don't know for certain that this is what is happening," Chang had replied stubbornly. At James's apparent look of disbelief, Chang looked him firmly in the eye. "You, LaFleur, are part of my circle of trust on this. Very few people on this island have any idea of the real significance of our work. We will keep working and we will keep the workers from Orchid from fraternizing too freely with the rest of the group. Put on a special security detail here to make sure they don't."

"Whatever you say, boss," James had retorted smartly, but he understood where the man was coming from. And he'd seen the strain on his face. The DI brass was all over Chang's ass for results and for answers to questions they didn't even know how to ask. James had been on that island long enough and had seen enough to realize that in the end none of those questions would probably ever get answered.

So he'd followed his orders and made sure the Orchid crew stayed separate from the rest of them.

When the time came to assign his new men to guard it, he considered sending Phil. It would have eased part of the tension around the office to throw the man a bone with a special assignment. Ever since Lamar had gone to Hydra to guard the bears, Phil had been even more of a pain than usual.

But James didn't trust him. Pure and simple.

In the end, he'd relented and sent Phil to Hydra as well. The silence in the office had been a profound relief.

Until Miles started up.

James finished his report and headed out the door, nearly running into his first lieutenant where he hovered.

"You done?" Miles asked testily.

"Finally. Now what's got you in such a twist?" James asked as he checked the monitors one last time before leaving them with the night shift.

"I'm just ready to get home is all," Miles retorted.

"So you should have left already." James dropped his radio onto the rack and started up the stairs to the outside.

"Next time I will. Forget waiting on you. You're too damned slow," Miles groused.

They walked in silence down the path that led to their houses. Dr. Chang and his wife met them on their way from the rec room. The pair were clearly arguing. However, the instant the good doctor spotted them, he turned all politeness.

"Good evening," he said with a nod as Mrs. Chang gave them a weak smile.

"Sure is," James replied, but Miles didn't make eye contact. He just nodded in their direction.

Once the pair had gone past, Miles sneaked a look over his shoulder at them. "They've been fighting for the past three weeks," he complained. "It's making me anxious."

"About what?" James asked curiously.

"I was born in April of 1977. I weighed eight pounds, fifteen ounces. My mom used to hit me with that whenever she needed to make me feel guilty. 'You were such a huge baby,' she'd moan. So I know I was full term," he began.

James looked at him in utter confusion. What the hell was he talking about?

"That means that I was conceived in June, early July at the latest," Miles explained. "But the way they've been fighting, I'll never see the light of day. What if they don't do it? What if something we've done here has changed things and I'm never conceived? Never born?" Miles began to sound panicky.

"Relax, Baby Huey," James tried to console him. "You're here now, aren't you? So the Changs have to make you. Don't worry about it."

Miles stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Sure, I'm here now. But I'm not here yet. You are. You've always been in both places, both times, ever since we got here. So have Jin and Juliet. But not me, man. Right now I only exist here," Miles tapped his chest. Then he pointed back toward the Changs' bungalow. "What happens if they don't go through with it? Will I suddenly cease to exist?"

James just shook his head. "You're making too much of this. Trust me, Miles, you're going to come along just like you're supposed to. Remember what Faraday told us. No changing the past, not even if we wanted to. That means in about ten months, Dr. Chang's going to be wiping your tiny little newborn ass."

"I hope so," Miles replied earnestly.

They walked in thoughtful silence until they got to James's house. Then Miles stopped him once again.

"Can you feel yourself?" he asked quietly. "Do you have some sense that you're out there somewhere else too?"

James stared at him for a long moment. "What do you mean?" he finally asked, though he knew exactly what Miles meant.

"Jin says that he thinks about himself in Korea right now. Sometimes he says he remembers particular days and events more vividly than he ought to. Like he's connected to himself some way. Do you? Do you feel yourself out there at home right now? If you do, then I'll know. I'll know when they make me. I'll feel some connection." Miles sounded downright pitiful in the face of his potential oblivion.

All James knew was that he'd been doing his dead level best not to feel himself. Not to think about himself. Not to notice every day that passed bringing him closer to the July evening when his life as he knew it ended forever.

"No. No, I can't feel myself," he lied. "Maybe Jin's just got a good memory."

"I'll ask Juliet," Miles sighed. "Good night."

James stood on the sidewalk and watched Miles go inside, trying to tell himself that it didn't matter whether he felt himself or not. It didn't matter whether Miles felt himself either. Miles was going to be born, right on schedule. Whatever happened, happened. And Miles had happened.

So had July 8, 1976. That had happened too.

He got home to find a note from Juliet. She was working late. Shit. So he pulled some meat out of the refrigerator and started to fry up some hamburgers for dinner.

He was patting the burgers into shape when Jasper suddenly sprang into his memory.

_The grey-headed lady looked at him over her glasses. "You're Warren Ford's boy, aren't you?" she asked with a smile. _

_"Yes, ma'am," he looked up from the candy rack in the grocery store checkout. His mama was talking to the clerk. _

_"I knew it. You're the spitting image of your daddy. Same pretty smile." She put a sack of potatoes on the end of the conveyor. _

James shook the memory (or was it a vision?) away and pulled some potatoes out of the vegetable bin and began peeling them for homefries.

No frozen French fry could compare – crispy golden on the outside but tender on the inside. He remembered sitting down for supper when he was little in front of a plate of steaming fries, still glistening from the oil. His daddy had loved homemade French fries. And so had he.

_"You two are just alike," his mama sighed. "All you want for dinner is fried potatoes." _

Somehow, he managed to keep the meat and the fries from burning and set the table, eager for Juliet to come home. The house was too quiet.

In the living room, the clock struck six. It sounded exactly like the big grandfather clock at the house in Jasper. He used to beg his daddy to let him wind it, pulling the weights up by their long gold chains until they hung back at the top of their housing. He'd stand there beside him and pull those chains, but always with his daddy's hand over his.

Suddenly he could smell his aftershave, just like he was right there in the room. English Leather.

Supper was on the table, ready. But he'd lost his appetite. Where was Juliet?

He went out on the front porch and sat down in the swing he'd built. Juliet had been seriously impressed with it when he presented it to her for her last birthday.

"Where on earth did you learn to build a porch swing?" she'd asked.

"There's more to me than meets the eye," he'd replied with a wink. But as he sat down on that swing, he remembered where he'd learned. He'd sat by his daddy's side and watched as he'd drawn the design for the swing he'd built for their back yard in Jasper. He'd passed him nails and helped him hold the wood in place as he'd sawed the boards for it. He'd been the first one in it to try it out, at his daddy's insistence.

He sat on his porch swing in Dharmaville but it was the peach trees of Alabama that surrounded him. He half expected there to be a huge bowl of butterbeans next to him that needed to be shelled. He could feel the hot summer sun shining down on his neck, even though night was falling on the island.

Bits of conversation began to come back to him then, as vivid as it had taken place yesterday rather than thirty years ago.

-0-

_"Where have you been?" his daddy asked. Mama had gone out right after school to run an errand and hadn't come back for a long time. _

_"Just to the store," she replied. She held a grocery sack in her hands and set it on the counter. _

_Daddy reached in and pulled out a jar of peanut butter, a loaf of bread, and two packs of cigarettes. "Four hours is a long time to be gone for this," he commented. "You must have run into somebody to talk to while you were out."_

_"I did. I saw Jeannette Riley at the store. We visited in the bread aisle for a while," Mama replied. _

_"I got a call from Bud MacDonald this afternoon. He said he saw you with that Sawyer guy down at the Tastee Cone." Daddy lit a cigarette. Jimmy wished he could go to the Tastee Cone. _

_"I ran in to get a Coke. Mr. Sawyer was in there too, so I said hello. Just what was Bud implying?" Mama sounded mad. _

_"Nothing. Just that he saw you two at a table together talking." _

_"Mr. Sawyer asked me what I thought of gold prices these days. I told him I had no idea about the price of anything." Mama pulled out a cigarette of her own. "You keep me in the dark about money." _

_Daddy got up then and poured himself a drink out of the bottle he kept over the stove. Jimmy thought its gold label was really pretty, but Daddy wouldn't let him try it. _

_"Don't start on that again, Mary. The last time I let you have the checkbook, we were broke in two weeks. Tell me what you want or need for the house and I'll make sure you have the money for it." Daddy was using the same voice he used when Jimmy didn't do his homework. If they were going to start yelling at each other, Jimmy decided to go to his room and play with his Spirograph. _

_"God, Warren!" His mother jabbed her cigarette out in the ashtray in the middle of the kitchen table. "Sometimes I feel like your cat rather than your wife." _

_"Well, find yourself something to do. Make some extra money of your own. Go down to the bank and see if your uncle needs another teller."_

_"Maybe I'll see if Mr. Sawyer needs some help in his office. I could answer the phone or type up letters for him." Mama got up from the table and opened the refrigerator. _

_"No. Not that guy," Daddy said. "I don't trust him." _

_"Why, Warren?" Mama walked over behind him and began to rub his shoulders and talk into his ear. "He seems like a nice enough guy to me. Maybe I can fix him up with my cousin Eileen. We could go out on a double date." _

_Daddy reached up and rubbed her hand. "I'm not sure Mr. Sawyer would be interested in Eileen. She's not exactly much to look at." _

_"But her daddy is loaded," Mama laughed and whispered something in Daddy's ear. He laughed too and kissed her cheek. _

_"How about some supper, young man?" Mama looked at Jimmy and gave him a big smile. He was glad she was smiling and laughing, not fighting. He liked to see them like this, all happy. It made him feel safe. _

-0-

He sat at the kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in his hand when Juliet finally came in, bringing a stack of paper with her. "Phil said you forgot the mail again," she explained as she dropped it on the table. "Mmmm, something smells good."

Sure enough there were at least three of those damned envelopes in the stack. The onslaught of Bicentennial letterhead in the past few months had finally dulled his reaction to them down to annoyance rather than full-on panic. He'd forgotten just how ever-present the Bicentennial had been, but reliving 1976 again reminded him. Even in the multinational environment of the Dharma Initiative, the primary colors of every piece of correspondence were red, white, and blue.

"Do you remember all this from the first time?" he asked Juliet as he waved yet another piece of Bicentennial promotion in the air.

"Not really, James," she answered as she spread mustard on her burger. "I was six."

"Well, I'm about sick and damned tired of the Statue of freaking Liberty on everything," he snapped back at her. "I am fully aware that the year is '76. Can the Spirit just leave me the hell alone?"

"It'll be better after the Fourth, I'm sure," Juliet tried to soothe him.

"It'll be better after the eighth," he growled, then realized he'd said it aloud. There was no way she would miss the reference either – Juliet didn't miss anything.

"What happens on the eighth, James?" she asked and her voice was all smooth and cool like vanilla ice cream, but he knew that beneath that layer of easy sweetness was a sheet of steel.

He sighed. Son of a bitch. He opened his mouth to tell her, but the truth stuck in his throat. "Miles thinks he was conceived on the eighth," was the explanation he offered instead. "All he does is moan about how he doesn't exist yet and worry about whether or not the Changs will quit fighting long enough to make him."

Juliet laughed. He closed his eyes for just a second and let the sound wash over him, then added, "He thinks that after the eighth, he'll be able to feel himself. He'll know he exists. Weird, huh?"

Juliet smiled, then turned thoughtful. "I don't know. Maybe it's not weird," she replied. "Sometimes I get these really vivid flashes of memory from our old house in Miami. Things I had completely forgotten. Maybe it's some kind of connection back to the little girl me that's making me remember."

He nearly choked on his bite of burger.

'You okay?" she asked.

He nodded and took a drink. Then he just breathed for a few seconds. "I think that's happening to me too," he finally stated. "I'm remembering things. Mostly about my daddy."

"James, I'm so sorry. That must be hard," she reached across the table to touch his hand.

"No, it's okay," he assured her. "It's all good things, believe it or not. I had forgotten just how many good times we had."

Somewhere thousands of miles away, maybe he and his daddy were playing catch or reading a book on that swing. Maybe they were cranking away at some homemade ice cream, enjoying the pleasant days before the heat of  
>summer really set in. He remembered being so happy.<p>

"My mama cheated on him. Then she stole from him." He pushed away his plate. "Juliet, I've spent the past twenty years hating him for killing her, for destroying my life the way he did. But here lately, all I can remember is how much he loved her and how much he loved me."

She put down her fork and looked at him expectantly. He couldn't meet her eyes but stared down at his half-eaten food instead.

"July 8, 1976, my daddy came home drunk and started fighting with my mama. Then he shot her. I was under the bed in my room. Then he came into my room, sat down on my bed, and shot himself in the head. I was right there the whole time. I heard everything." The confession wrung him out, and his hands shook as he tried to take a drink from his glass.

"Now, it's 1976 again. All that's going to happen in just a few days," he whispered. "I have spent my whole life hating him. But right now I can't help but feel sorry for the son of a bitch."

He put his head in his hands and sighed. "Why, Juliet? What kind of man does something like that to his wife and his kid? How can I –" his voice broke. "How can I miss him so bad knowing what he did?"

She got up from her chair and knelt beside him. "It's okay, James," she murmured as she put her arms around him. "It's okay to feel whatever you feel."

He held onto her words and held onto her as conflicting emotions began to churn inside him. Hatred, fear, love, longing, anger, and sadness each fought for their place.

As bad as he felt that moment, topmost in his mind was that the eighth was coming. It was just going to get worse.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am getting ready to start a series on my blog about going from fanfiction to publication. I'd LOVE it if you'd help promote it. I've added an email subscription option to the blog, hoping to do my part in helping developing writers discover just how useful writing fanfiction can be. The first installment goes up Thursday, Jan 17, 2013. It can be found at www dot arleycole dot blogspot dot com. Thanks!


	26. Chapter 26 Daddy's Boy Part Two

Chapter 26 – Daddy's Boy Part Two

He woke up on the morning of the eighth feeling better than he expected. Juliet had tried to get him to call in sick, but he'd refused. He figured it would be easier to make it through the day if he had plenty to do. So he and Miles walked to the security bunker just like normal, Miles still grousing about not feeling himself.

"It's not going to happen, Jim. I just know it," was his gloomy refrain.

"Yes, it will, Miles," James tried half-heartedly to reassure him. "Whatever happened happened. No changing it." However, his words only served to increase his own depression and the two of them stomped into the bunker like a couple of grouchy polar bears.

The night-shift guy stretched as he rose from the monitor bank. "Anything going on, Doug?" James asked as he thumbed through the night report.

"Not a thing, Mr. LaFleur," Doug answered.

"Good," James replied then dismissed the man. "See you later."

Miles began working on a broken video camera as James headed into his office. He had just sat down at his desk when his radio crackled into life.

"Come in, LaFleur." Dr. Chang's voice demanded.

"LaFleur here."

"I need you out at the Orchid immediately," Chang replied.

"On my way," James sighed. He stopped by the weapons locker on his way out and checked out a pistol. "I'm headed to the Orchid. Don't wait up," he quipped in Miles's direction as he headed up the stairs.

"While you're there, tell my dad he's working too many hours or something. He needs time at home," Miles called.

"To screw your mom?" James replied with a wry laugh.

"That sounds so awful," Miles sighed as he turned back to his broken camera. Then he yelled "Yes!" at James's back as he climbed the stairs.

-0-

James turned down the jungle trail to the Orchid, the jeep bouncing around in the rutted road. Juliet would have his hide if he knocked another hole in the oil pan, so he slowed up a bit on the roughest patches.

At last, the Orchid came into view, the construction finally to the point where it had begun to look like the building he remembered, only half-constructed rather than half-destroyed. He wondered anew what had happened to it between 1976 and 2004.

Pierre Chang stood outside the building waiting on him. "We've had a casualty," he declared. "Serious this time."

"Three missing fingers wasn't serious?" James muttered as he headed inside the building.

Chang pointed to a man lying on a sheet of plastic in the corner, twelve inches of metal rebar protruding from his upper abdomen. "The men said there was a buzzing sound and that piece of scrap flew eight feet across the room into him," the scientist sighed.

"Shit," James sighed as he knelt beside the man. "You should have told me to bring the doctor."

"The doctor is at Hydra. There was an incident with the polar bears. One escaped. After the investigation, we will probably need to reassign the man in question."

"Phil," James guessed. Then he turned back to the worker, who lay on the floor groaning softly. "I can take him back to the infirmary, but unless the doc shows up, we don't have anybody with the training to fix this."

"And it is imperative that this incident be kept quiet," Chang warned him once more.

James took his boss by the arm and dragged him to the side out of the injured man's hearing. "If quiet means letting this guy just die, I'm out," James declared firmly. "Pierre, you need to take a step back from this project. I don't think you are seeing things as clearly as you need to right now."

Dr. Chang passed his hand over his eyes, then nodded. "You're right, Jim. Let's get this man to medical care."

Together they carefully loaded the injured man into the rear of one of the vans and drove back to Dharmaville. The infirmary was empty when they arrived. James ran next door to Horace's office only to find that the nurse had been called out to deal with an injury at the Arrow.

Damn it. That left one other person on that island with the training to help the guy.

He ran to the motor pool, but her coworker didn't know where she'd gone. "She left about an hour ago. Said she'd see me tomorrow," he explained as he mounted a tire. "Have you tried your place?"

James shook his head and turned toward home, but his radio chirped. "LaFleur! Get back here! Now!" Chang panicked.

James shook his head and ran back to the infirmary where the scientist stood over the injured man, attempting to keep him still. The man shook violently and it was all the two men could do to keep him on the gurney.

The door swung open and James looked back over his shoulder in the sincere hope that Juliet was coming through it. Instead the nurse entered, dropping her first aid bag onto the desk.

"Hey, Maureen!" James yelled at her. "Give us a hand!"

The woman ran to them and quickly assessed the situation. "We need a surgeon. Now," she declared. "But the doc's at Hydra."

"Then you'll have to do it," Chang stated in a much higher pitched voice than usual.

"I'm no surgeon!" the nurse exclaimed. "I worked in labor and delivery before I came here."

"I might know where to find some help," James began, but the man on the table began to convulse again.

"No time," the nurse declared. "He's going into shock. Probably bleeding internally. We're going to have to pull this bar out of him and try to stop the bleeding."

"Just give me a couple of minutes," James begged.

But the nurse shook her head. "Get on the gurney and pull straight out when I tell you," she instructed as she slipped into a pair of surgical gloves. She grabbed a tray of instruments from a cabinet. "Dr. Chang, get ready to hand me what I ask for."

James somehow managed to climb onto the gurney and knelt over the man, his heart pounding in terror. "You're going to be okay, you hear me?" he called to the man, but the worker's eyes were closed and his face had gone very pale.

The nurse stood beside the gurney, her hands full of gauze. "Ready? Okay, start pulling."

James began to pull on the piece of rebar, the rough surface of the metal digging into his hands. It wouldn't budge.

"It's hung in his ribs. Pull harder! Dr. Chang, hold his shoulders," the nurse ordered. James pulled harder, but the metal did not want to move. The man groaned softly, then lay very still.

"Pull, damnit!" Maureen yelled at him and he did. He pulled with all his might and the length of metal came free with a gory spray of blood that showered over him.

Maureen desperately began to pack the wound, but James could see she was facing a losing battle. Blood poured out of the hole in the worker's abdomen, heavily at first, then slowing as the man bled out.

A pool of red began to form on the floor beside the gurney, and James eased down, careful not to step in it. He looked over at Chang. The scientist's white coat was speckled with blood and his brown eyes were wide open. The nurse checked the man's vitals one last time, but James knew he was gone. He'd seen death before. He knew how it looked when a person lay in a pool of their own blood, all the life poured out of them.

"I'm sorry," Maureen said at last. "You did all you could do for him. Even if the doctor had been here, the damage was too much. We just aren't equipped for this kind of emergency," she sighed.

Dr. Chang nodded. "Thank you for trying," he stated, his voice beginning to come back into its usual deep register. He glanced down at his coat. "I better go change." With a look at James, he added sadly, "You too, LaFleur."

"How did this happen?" the nurse asked as she took the piece of metal rebar from James's hand.

"We're not sure," Dr. Change replied. "Some kind of machinery malfunction, I believe." James didn't miss the tight warning glance Chang shot at him over the gurney.

"Yeah," James agreed. Then he turned to Maureen. "You need any help here?" he asked her.

"No. You guys go get cleaned up. I'll call Roger," she declared as she pulled a sheet over the corpse.

Without another word, the two men left the infirmary, walking together in silence until their paths diverged as each headed home.

As Dr. Chang reached his front door, James saw his wife walk out to meet him, taking in the blood on his clothing with a worried look. "Pierre, are you all right?" She took his face in her hands as she asked. Chang nodded and let her lead him inside.

James passed through the front door of his own house, but was arrested by the sight in the mirror over the entry table. He looked like he'd just come from a murder. Stains covered his jumpsuit in garish sprays of sticky crimson. Bright red smears peppered his face and clung to his hair where he'd caught the worst of the geyser of blood.

He looked just like him.

Add an exit wound just at the back of his skull and he'd be the spitting image of his daddy, half-sitting there on his bed with blood in his hair and on his shirt.

James stripped out of his jumpsuit where he stood, rolling in into itself and thrusting it into the nearest garbage can. Then he headed to the bathroom, shucking clothing as he went.

The water in the shower ran red at his feet as he stood beneath it, shivering. He hadn't waited for it to warm before climbing inside and the spray was like ice on his skin.

After several minutes the water ran clear again and grew warm, then hot. He poured shampoo into his hand and lathered his hair over and over, soaping himself down repeatedly, scrubbing his skin until it grew pink.

But he still felt bloody and sticky, as if he'd never be clean. He sat down in the tub, let the water run over him, and tried not to think as he stared at the pale blue walls of the shower.

The sound of the water splashing over him grew distant and the room grew dark. The feeling of déjà vu he'd been experiencing lately collapsed over him, trapping him in the grip of a past he knew was now the present.

Despite everything he'd told Miles about not feeling himself, he knew. He knew without a doubt what was happening. He tried to pull his attention back to his adult self, to re-center himself back on the island, but he didn't have the strength to fight the pull.

Voices argued in the hallway. She told him to put down the gun. A shot echoed through the house in Jasper and through his head in Dharmaville. Her body hit the floor.

His daddy stumbled into the room with heavy, shuffling steps. He could smell him, the smell of whiskey and cigarette smoke laid over English Leather. He could hear his ragged breath, could hear him whisper the words "I'm sorry" over and over. He could hear the bang as his daddy he pulled the trigger.

The blood came down the wall behind him onto the floor. It flowed out around his mama where she lay in the hallway, a big hole in her chest. It flowed over him as he sat there in the tub. It ran out red at his feet.

It was over. Whatever happened had just happened. They were gone. In a house thousands of miles away, across a huge wide ocean, the little boy he was stood alone on the front porch and watched the sun go down, terrified out of his mind. In a house on an island in the Pacific, that same little boy, now a man, sat alone and grieved for that boy because he knew what that day had done to him, was doing to him right that moment.

He had no idea how long he'd been there when he heard a soft tap at the door. "James?" Juliet called. "Are you okay?"

The door opened and she peered inside. She took one look at him and headed directly for the shower to turn off the water, which had grown icy cold once more. "Come out now," she ordered softly. "You need to come out of there."

He staggered to his feet as she helped him out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist, then another around his shoulders. She began to dry him off, rubbing his chest and hair with yet another towel.

Then she put her arms around him and held him for a long moment as he dripped onto the floor. He looked down at the puddle beneath his feet, at first in panic that it might be red. But it wasn't. It was clear. Just water.

"Come on," she said at last and led him to the bedroom. She guided him to the bed and pushed him into it, stripping out of her jeans and t-shirt to lie beside him. She covered them both with blankets and wrapped herself around him. After a long while, he stopped shivering.

"I heard what happened," Juliet said softly at last.

James lay beside her, silent and unmoving. "He should have shot me too," he whispered at last. "The bastard should have shot me too."

Juliet pulled away from him, confusion in her eyes, but she didn't ask. She just lay with him and held him in her arms.

-0-

The hours passed. Juliet went to sleep beside him. Even though his body had finally warmed in her embrace, he felt like his mind had been frozen in a block of ice.

His thoughts circled back on themselves in a tight cycle of death and blood. He tried hard not to think about blood and the way it looked when it ran out of someone, but he'd seen it so many times. Somewhere in Alabama, right this minute, it was the first time. How many times since? Some he'd seen die in front of him, some he'd killed.

He caught himself rubbing at his face and arms, trying to rid himself of the feeling that he was still covered in blood. His movement woke Juliet.

"You want to talk?" she asked.

"No."

"You hungry?"

"No."

He rolled away from her, but she just curled against him, her arm around his waist.

"I'm just like him," he whispered. "I'm just like my daddy."

"No, James." Her arms squeezed around him. "No, you are not. He did what he did because he was afraid. You aren't afraid. You just wanted justice. You wanted the guilty to pay."

But the guilty had never really paid. Even in the brig of the Black Rock, the guilty died without ever even acknowledging what he'd done.

And right now thousands of miles away, his daddy probably still lay in a pool of his own blood, taking the easy way out.

In the end only the innocent had paid—he'd paid until he was just as guilty as the rest of them.

-0-

The next morning, he woke to the sound of Miles's voice in the kitchen.

"I'm alive!" he was shouting at Juliet. "I can feel it!"

James entered the room, rubbing sleep from his eyes, only to see Miles swing Juliet around, laughing hysterically.

"They did it!" he ran to James with an uncharacteristically huge grin on his face. "I can tell. I know I'm alive now."

"So you can feel yourself? As a zygote?" Juliet asked doubtfully.

"I know I'm alive. There's this connection to the now me I never felt before," Miles sounded so full of conviction. "Can't you feel it? Can't you feel the now you?"

James couldn't help but feel it. Across the world the horror that engulfed Jimmy Ford found its way to wrap around his spirit as well. As alive as Miles felt right now, James felt just as dead inside.

But somehow he mustered a smile for his friend. "Well, I'm glad," he declared, forcing happiness into his tone.

"My parents are finally my parents," Miles sighed. "And it feels great."

And my parents aren't any more, James thought with a sigh of his own. And it felt miserable.

(Again, go to my blog at www dot arleycole dot blogspot dot com to start reading my new series on turning Fanfiction into your best, cheapest, funnest creative writing class ever. I'm posting the first installment tonight!)


	27. Chapter 27 The Letter from Dan

Chapter 27 The Letter from Dan

"I can't take it anymore!" James exclaimed as he threw down his keys on the entry table. "Chang and Horace have both lost their damned minds."

"Mmmm," Juliet agreed absently as she took a casserole out of the oven.

"All they do is gripe with each other and everybody else that gets within earshot. I am sick and damned tired of the both of them," he bitched as he snatched a beer out of the fridge.

"It'll pass," Juliet offered sagely, passing him the bottle opener.

He popped the cap and took a long drink—Dharma brew tasted a lot better from a bottle. Juliet stood at the sink, her arms crossed, gazing at him with this little smile and knowing look. "What's so damned amusing?" he asked.

"It's just reassuring to know that in thirty years, expectant fathers haven't changed a bit," she replied.

He took a step closer to her and said, "Well, when it's our turn, I'm going to prove you wrong. I'm going to be the most laid-back daddy in the world."

Her eyes widened at that and he considered for a minute just how beautiful a little girl they'd make with her mama's big eyes and long blonde hair. He ran his fingers into that silky hair and pressed a kiss onto her forehead.

He pulled back, hoping to see encouragement in her eyes, but to his chagrin, she was frowning. "What'd I say?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't want to have a baby here, James. Not on the island," she admitted with a shiver. "Sometimes I think about Amy and I get so scared. What if she dies? We don't know for sure that she makes it through this. Her or the baby."

He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips against her hair. "She'll be fine, sweetheart. After all, we know Miles is going to get here okay. He and his mom both come out of this just fine. I don't know any reason why Amy and her baby won't do the same thing."

She nodded and leaned into him. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her arms around his waist.

The kitchen timer buzzed on the counter. "I have to get the rolls out of the oven," she declared, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

"Okay, go ahead," he replied, making no effort to pull away from her at all.

After a couple more seconds of buzzing, she laughed and pushed herself free. "They'll burn," she explained as she slipped her hand into an oven mitt. He enjoyed the sight of her backside as she bent over to open the oven door. The rolls were perfectly golden and steamed a little as she tipped them off the pan and into a basket.

"I love you," he stated easily as it all came together for him. This house, this life, this peace – her. He did love her. He wanted to marry her.

But not here. Not on this crazy island. It was time to go home.

-0-

"Jin, I've been thinking," James approached his friend with a little trepidation. He knew Miles would be happy to leave the island once his baby self was born. In fact, Miles had been collecting Dharma mainland job listings for the past several weeks. But James wasn't at all sure where Jin stood on the idea.

"What about?" Jin replied as he spread out a map of the island to mark new coordinates for Radzinsky.

"Juliet and I have been thinking about leaving. Making a new start on the mainland," James jumped into the discussion bluntly. "I think we've given Locke plenty of time to show up. My guess is he ain't never coming back."

Jin closed his eyes a moment and sighed. "I know. Sometimes I wonder if Sun would want me to stay. Maybe if we go home and make a new place for us there, I can wait for her. When she gets back to LA, I can be there and we can be together again. Maybe that's what I am supposed to do."

"Yeah," James agreed in relief. He hadn't wanted to leave Jin behind. "We'll make good investments, put aside some funds. Hell, when they all show up we can surprise the shit out of them."

"I can be with her when she has our baby," Jin mused softly.

It struck James then that Jin had been an expectant father for nearly three years, living in a world where his wife didn't even exist, much less his daughter, but knowing they were still out there somewhere ahead of him.

"Time travel's a bitch," James sighed.

"I will be so old then," Jin agreed. "I will be Ji-Yeun's grandfather's age, not her father's."

"But you'll be there. That's what counts. The minute Sun gets off that rescue boat, you'll be there."

A smile broke through Jin's face as hope at last spread over him. "I will be there," Jin repeated. "Yes. It's time to leave."

-0-

"So, we're looking for transfers to the mainland?" Miles asked, glee evident in his voice. He practically danced down the sidewalk toward the house. "Thank God! I thought we were all going to be stuck here forever. It's about damned time we moved on." Then he stopped and grabbed James by the arm. "But not before I'm born, okay? I want to see mini-me here all safe and sound."

"Sure, sure," James agreed. He'd been checking the sub schedule for the next several months, hoping to work out a good departure time. The trip after baby Miles was scheduled to be born in April was full already going out, and the sub wouldn't be back for a good two months after that.

Amy had been slated to take one of the outgoing berths when it left again, and Horace would certainly be going with her. That made it tough to wrangle spots on that one. For one thing, James couldn't leave at the same time as the island's director. Chang depended on him to keep things moving when Horace wasn't available.

He considered trying once more to talk Miles into leaving before his birth – what a freaking weird situation - but he knew it was no use. So they had at least another six months before they could make their move.

At home over dinner, Juliet was not so understanding. "Miles can hang around if he wants to, but if we're going to leave, let's just go!" she pleaded. "The sub pulls out Thursday. There are plenty of bunks. We can ditch this place forever, James. When Miles gets done with his business here, he can come join us."

James had to admit it was tempting. "Don't you want to see Amy's baby?" he tried to play his trump card. She and Juliet were friends. Juliet was a baby doctor. Surely she wanted to see this one play out.

"Yes. No." Juliet contradicted herself and began to pace the living room. "I do want to see the baby, but I don't want to stay here any longer."

A knock at the front door interrupted their discussion. It was Horace looking anxious. "Hey, Jim. Juliet. You seen the doctor?"

"Why? Is something wrong?" Juliet pushed past James to the door.

"Amy's just got a couple of questions. You know, baby stuff," Horace replied, pushing back a strand of unruly hair.

"Well, my sister just had a baby not too long before we got here," Juliet began. "Maybe I know the answer."

"She says she sometimes feels like there are butterflies in her stomach – literally," he said. "Is that normal?"

"Horace, that's the baby moving. She's feeling the baby move," Juliet laughed. "It's hard to know just what it is at first, but it will get stronger as the baby gets bigger. Soon he'll be kicking you both."

Horace smiled and hugged her in relief. "The baby is moving!" he declared happily. Then he shook James's hand. "I gotta go tell Ames."

They watched him run down the sidewalk, then James turned to Juliet. "You sure you don't want to stick around? I mean, it would be great for them to have you here as backup."

Her smile fell away. "No." She began to back away from him, her hands raised. "No. I am not going to have anything to do with this birth. I'm cursed. If I help her in any way, she'll die." Borderline hysteria clipped the edge of her words.

"You aren't cursed," he tried to assure her, but she backed away from him.

"Don't ask me to have anything to do with this, James. Don't. I can't."

"Okay, okay," he tried to calm her with a hand to her arm but she jerked away.

"Promise me you won't."

"Okay. I promise." Finally, she let him hold her again and he felt her heart pound against his chest. "I promise."

-0-

It came.

It came on the sub that bore Dr. and Mrs. Chang and baby Miles.

"So much for literally born on the island," Miles commented as the trio stepped carefully down the gangplank to the dock. But James caught a dreamy look as it passed over his friend's face when his parents stopped so James could have a look at the baby.

"Meet Miles," Dr. Change said, a proud grin spread over his face. "Lara is a huge Miles Davis fan."

James looked into the little bundle of blankets to see a tiny face capped by a thick shock of dark hair. A hand reached up and grasped his, surprising him with the strength in those tiny fingers.

It took all his self-control not to turn to grown Miles and make some kind of smart-ass comment. Instead, he swallowed his words and told the couple that their baby was adorable. He heard Miles sniff a little behind him.

As the Changs walked back to their house, James turned back to Miles with a grin. "The funny thing, Dr. Evil, is that mini-you really is adorable," he teased. Miles just continued to sniff. "Are you crying?"

"No."

"You are! You're all torn up over this," James crowed. Then he put an arm around his friend's shoulder. "You should ask the Changs to let you babysit sometime."

"God, this is so weird," Miles sighed.

"Yeah, but wonderful," James agreed.

As they walked back to the security bunker, one of the sub crew called out to him, "Mr. Lafleur!" James turned to see that the man had a small box in his hand. "I believe this is yours, sir."

James took the box and thanked him.

"What did you order?" Miles asked curiously.

"Supplies for the office. Some radio parts," James lied smoothly, glad he still had the skill because his heart had started to pound.

It had come.

In the sub's mailbag was a letter addressed to him as well – a letter from Dan. He picked it up from the stack that had been delivered to his office. "Well, well. So the prodigal decided to write home," he commented to himself. He'd just slit the envelope when Phil came in, rattling on about missing inventory at the Staff.

"An entire box of cutting edge medication has gone missing," he declared dramatically.

"What medication?" James asked.

"It's called ibuprofen," Phil declared. "We just got it."

"Advil? Somebody stole a box of Advil?"

"Ibuprofen," Phil corrected him pompously. "And three bottles of mercurochrome."

James wracked his brain at that one and finally came up with a memory of his mother doctoring a cut on his knee with the stuff. It was dark red, stained everything, and burned like crazy.

"So, somebody's having headaches and scraped knees," James decided. "Put the rest of it under lock and key in the cabinets and keep your eyes open for people acting suspicious."

"But we don't know what ibuprofen can do to people," Phil warned. "This is a new drug. It could be dangerous."

"I think we're fine," James declared, then picked up his little box and letter and began to head toward the door. Maybe the man would take the hint and go home himself. When he finally pulled the office door closed and told him goodnight, Phil headed back to his desk, a frown on his face.

Not for the first time, he wished Phil hadn't been kicked off polar bear island.

He kept the box shoved deep into the pocket of his coveralls as he opened the front door. "Hey, babe! You home?" he called. When he didn't get an answer, he tossed Dan's letter on the dining table and ran back to his bedroom, pushing aside the dresser to reveal the concealed hiding place for his mini-stash.

Ever vigilant for the sound of Juliet coming home, he sliced open the cardboard lid with his pocket knife and pulled out a small black velvet bag and an invoice.

He held his breath as he opened the little bag and let the ring fall into his hand. The little half-carat stone flashed in the sunlight that streamed through the window. The setting was simple, yet elegant. It had taken him months of putting back every dime to purchase it without her realizing he had been keeping back part of his pay.

He wished it was bigger, but he had to admit it was beautiful. Maybe once they got settled in back home, he'd be able to do more for her. He hoped she'd understand.

He debated asking her that night, slipping that engagement ring onto her finger where it belonged, making their relationship official.

But he pushed back that desire because he had a better plan. There was only one place and one time for him to go down on one knee to her. He could see it play out in his head.

The sub would be pulled up to the dock, ready to take them back to the mainland, back to a new life. The crew would have their luggage—what little there was of it—already loaded on board. Miles and Jin would be walking ahead, smiling and laughing, ready to leave.

At the edge of the dock, the same place he convinced her to stay three years before, he'd stop her. "Hey, I got a question for you." he'd begin. "Now that we're leaving this place I want to know something."

Then he'd pull that ring out of his pocket, drop to his knee and ask, "Will you keep getting my back?"

A sound in the living room interrupted his daydreams and he shoved the ring back in the pouch, stashed it, and hastily replaced the boards and furniture.

Juliet stood in the dining room, her dark blue coverall unzipped to the waist, revealing a thin white tanktop. She had a smear of grease on her forehead and her hair was beginning to escape its ponytail. She looked unbelievably sexy.

She sounded ticked. "Have you seen this?" she asked, waving the letter from Dan in the air.

"Nope, haven't had the chance. What does it say?" he asked as he pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge.

"It doesn't make any sense. Listen to this." He peered over her shoulder as she began to read.

_I was typing a report I read ten years ago when it hit me. I knew that report because I'd written it. So I went through some other things to see if they were familiar and I knew we are it. We are writing the equations I was studying then. And I've been dreaming about pictures. I think I saw a picture of them in the past, which is the future now. So I think it would be good to keep looking for them because I'm dreaming about them coming. Keep these notes for me. I will be watching out. _

The rest of the paper was covered front and back with a long series of equations. It looked like some kind of alien language to him. There were some abbreviated words like Var. and Mt but other than that it was all numbers and symbols.

"Do you understand any of this?" he asked Juliet.

"No. Physics wasn't my strong suit," she admitted. "I tapped myself out in Organic Chemistry."

_I tapped myself out in freshman math,_ he thought with a sigh. "So what do you think it means?"

"I don't know what he's talking about," Juliet sighed and handed him the letter.

"Keep looking for them," James read aloud. "Do you think he means Locke?" He couldn't help the disbelief in his voice.

"I guess," she answered with a sigh and tossed the letter onto the table.

"Come on. Doncha got anything else?" he begged her. "You're the brain trust of this operation, sweetheart. Can't you make some sense of this?"

Juliet swiveled on him with that cool stare he knew so well. It was the stare that meant 'drop it.' Then she melted a little and added, "No, I can't. None of Daniel's ramblings mean anything to me. Besides, even if by some bizarre chance Locke showed up here in 1977- and how he would get here I have no idea - there's no way to recreate what he did to send us here. The well has been filled in completely and the Orchid is nowhere near finished. Plus, you've been in there at least a hundred times. Have you ever seen anything that looks like a time travel device?"

James considered her words as he sipped his beer. Then he shook his head. "All I've seen in there is tunnels and concrete. There's some strange electromagnetic energy down there and who knows what Radzinsky is going to try to do with it. But no time travel devices."

"Then it's a moot point. It doesn't matter." She blinked calmly at him, then asked what he wanted for dinner.

That evening they showed the letter to Jin and Miles. "Sun might come here?" Jin asked over and over. "She might come back?" To their surprise, the man actually began to cry.

"I don't know, Jin-bo," James replied, taken aback by the sight of his usually taciturn companion wiping his streaming eyes. "I kind of thought it would be Locke that would come back."

"But Daniel said 'them,' not Locke. And Locke did say he was going to get them. That means Sun too," Miles noted. "And Jack, Sayid, Hurley, and Kate."

The room grew quiet. James considered how things would change if Jack came back. He was completely certain that Sayid, Hurley, and Kate would never set foot on that island again. Hell, Kate and Sayid were probably in jail. They weren't coming back.

Jack, on the other hand, would probably show up just to piss him off. He wondered for a split second if Jack would have understood Dan's crazy math code. Probably. Dr. Shepherd probably had a second degree in theoretical physics to go with his primary major in being an asshole.

James wondered how in the hell would he be able to start a new life with Juliet if Jack was around to remind her of how it really was? James had begun to convince himself that he really was respectable. He'd begun to believe that Juliet was a mechanic and that he was the head of security. They were just another working-class couple trying to make ends meet.

But if Jack came back, the lie would unravel completely. Juliet was a renowned fertility researcher with a list of publications that rivaled his arrest record. James was a conman and a convicted felon who never even finished high school. Suddenly that half-carat diamond seemed so small.

James finally had everything he ever wanted, but if Jack Shepherd showed up, somehow the good doctor would see that he lost it all just to make sure he remembered who he really was.

"Jim?" Jin's voice broke through his dark thoughts. "Can we look for them? If Sun comes back here, I have to find her."

"Sure, Jin," he answered. "I'll draw up some search grids and we'll start working them systematically. If Horace asks, I'll tell him you're looking for more hotspots for Radzinsky. If Radzinsky asks, I'll tell him you're scouting for hostile activity."

That night, as he and Juliet crawled into bed, she asked, "Do you think Jin's right? Do you think there's a chance they could come back?"

"Nope. I think this is a bunch of crazy Dan delusion," he replied as he pulled her into his chest. "I mean, he's talking about dreams and pictures and writing reports he's already read. You know how he is. He's obsessed with turning back the clock somehow so that Charlotte made it here with us."

She nodded, then closed her eyes, her hands wrapping around his arms. He knew right that moment where Dan was coming from. If something happened to her, he knew he'd try to rewrite history itself to get her back.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"It's always something with you people. Now you say, Jack's got a bomb," Rose commented wearily. "And what? You guys are all going to try to stop him, right? We traveled back thirty years in time and you're still trying to find ways to shoot each other?"_

_Would it come to that? James wondered. Would they really have to kill Jack to stop him? Juliet tried to talk sense into them, just like she had done with him on the sub. Jack had to be stopped. They couldn't just let him blow the island to hell and take them with it. _

_When Bernard starting prosing on about being together in the end, James tuned him out. This was not going to be the end, not if he could help it. _

_Kate had brought them there. Kate knew what Jack was planning, but could he trust her? Would she change her mind midway? If push came to shove, would she back him instead of the doctor? Would she be willing to kill Jack to stop him? Surreptitiously he tried to read her expression, to see if she'd give something away. But she just kept looking at the ground. _

_When Rose pointed them in the right direction, it was time to go. He shook hands with the couple. They were lucky to have each other. _

_Juliet hung back to say goodbye, so he paused just up the trail to let her catch up. For a minute he considered going back to Dharmaville. He started to ask her if she wanted to. He knew he better ask first since she'd set him straight on the sub about making decisions on his own. They made decisions together. _

_But as she strode toward him, her hand across her belly and a frown on her face, he decided not to question her. She'd made it pretty clear earlier that she wanted Jack stopped with or without his help. She hadn't wanted to let little Ben die and now she didn't want to let Amy and Horace and the baby die. Once again, being with her made him a better man. He'd been happy to leave them all to fend for themselves. _

_When they reached the road, he looked one more time over to Kate to make sure she hadn't backed down, to be sure they could count on her. _

_He heard the van coming and knew it was time for a showdown with Jack. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of blonde hair and knew Juliet had brought her pistol to bear. He might have his doubts about Kate, but he knew where Juliet stood. She had his back. _

_Secure in his course, James raised his rifle. _


	28. Chapter 28 Boom

Chapter 28 Boom

_"Why are you doing this, Juliet?" He couldn't believe his ears. She was breaking up with him. _

_"If I never meet you, then I never have to lose you," she replied and headed back to the road. _

_He was floored. He stood there in the jungle, his knuckles stinging from the beating he'd given Jack, his face aching from the beating Jack had given him. _

_She was breaking up with him. _

_What in the hell had happened to make her want to break up with him? _

_-0-_

The phone rang, startling him out of sleep. Juliet pulled a pillow over her head and rolled away from him.

"They're back!" Jin practically yelled into his ear. "They're back. Come out here now. I have to go look for Sun."

He stammered an answer and finally got Jin to tell him where to meet.

_What the hell?_ he wondered as he pulled on his coveralls. Juliet asked him something but he couldn't think straight. Had he been dreaming?

He put her off and headed outside, finally waking fully when the cool morning air hit his face. He drove to the point, scanning the horizon for signs of life. Then he spotted the van. It rolled to a stop and the door opened.

Jack.

Hurley.

And Kate.

For a moment, he felt his heart stop. Just yesterday he'd told Horace he couldn't even remember what she looked like and he hadn't been lying.

That first night in 1974, he'd turned the page. He was there; she was gone. End of story.

Now her face leaped into his vision and every bit of heartbreak he'd ever felt over her suddenly surged up inside him as she looked at him with that little smile. The image of her face blazed up in his memory – Kate kissing him, Kate crying in his tent, Kate staring at Jack. He could see the look she gave him before he jumped out of the chopper three years earlier. He'd thought that would be the last.

Emotions surged inside him, then he remembered something. He'd made his choice. So had she. She could have bailed out with him, but she'd stayed with Jack.

And maybe that had been the point all along. Maybe he'd just forced her hand. Made her choose between them at last.

So he hugged Hugo, genuinely glad to see the big guy, shook Jack's hand like a civilized person, and given her a friendly hug. If his "Good to see you, Kate," sounded a little stiff, so be it.

By the time he got back to the house, he'd wracked his brain for solutions to their new arrival problem. Part of him wanted to keep Juliet out of it completely. If it all went bad, he didn't want anyone able to point a finger at her.

But he couldn't keep it from her. He needed her help. He needed her ideas. He couldn't do it without her.

That night as he and Juliet sat around after dinner, the mood had been jubilant. They'd pulled it off. Happily, Juliet had managed to con the sub manifest out of Amy's grasp and make the necessary changes, assigning Hugo to the kitchen, Jack to the janitor's group, and Kate to the motor pool.

He thought they were good calls. Hugo would enjoy the kitchen – the staff were laid back and the hours weren't awful. Jack on janitorial would mean they had another set of keys when needed, and he guessed Juliet wanted Kate with her so they would each have someone to talk to. Juliet had griped for months that there weren't any other women in vehicle maintenance.

The only problem was Sayid. But he was safely in custody and James felt confident he'd find a way to bring him in as well. Juliet would help him think of something. He'd just told her how proud he was of her – again – when she rose to answer a knock at the door.

It was just like Jack to come barreling into his living room, his territory, and demand answers. It felt good to send the doc home without any for once. Plus, he'd caught the less than thrilled look on Juliet's face when she opened the door. Knowing she wasn't glad to see Jack made him unaccountably happy.

Once the doc was gone, she'd crawled into his arms with a deep sigh. Somehow or another, they would make it all work out.

-0-

The next morning, he caught her at the living room window, watching the new arrivals head out for the day. Smoke still hung in the air from her burned bacon.

"It's over, isn't it?" she asked. "This. Us. Playing house."

It couldn't be over. They had a good thing going in Dharmaville. Surely they could get Jack, Kate, and Hurley integrated into it without any issues. Sayid would take some work, but James felt sure he could make it happen.

By the time he finished dealing with Sayid that day – or not dealing with him, as the case might be – he understood just exactly what she was talking about. Sayid had lost his freaking mind. He refused to play along, to run the con. He knew what that meant. If one of the team blew his cover, the rest were sure to follow.

Pissed off, James headed to confront Jack. Just what the hell were they doing there anyway? Did they just come back to screw with his life?

But Kate answered the door so he asked her instead.

"I don't know why everyone else came back," she began. "I just know why I did," she began.

His sudden curiosity got sidetracked as a van hit the side of a nearby house and burst into flames.

_Boom_.

As the van exploded, so did his life.

-0-

James left the infirmary, Roger sobbing on the front porch. When he'd told Juliet that Jack refused to operate on little Ben, he'd never seen her so angry. He did his best to calm her, then told her he was going to try to raise the Looking Glass, to see if the doctor couldn't come back early - like immediately.

No luck. Radzinsky had been his same pain in the ass self, asking him even more questions about Sayid. When Phil showed up, Radzinsky had begun filling his ear with theories about how the Hostiles planned to attack the new Swan station.

So James had left him in mid-rant and hurried back to the infirmary, a sinking feeling in his chest. Roger was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door and snatched up a mask only to drop it again at the sight of the empty bed where the kid had been lying.

"Where did he go? Is he . . . ?" he asked, not even wanting to know the answer.

"No. He's still alive," Juliet put a soothing hand on his arm. "I sent him with Kate."

"With Kate? Where the hell is she taking him?"

"To the Others. There's a good chance they can help him," she replied calmly.

"Why?" he blurted angrily. "Why do you want to help him? He's done nothing but make you miserable. He kept you prisoner on this damned island. He's a lying, manipulative son of a bitch. Maybe Sayid had the right idea."

"I know, I know," she replied, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "I thought the same thing. But it doesn't matter what he's going to grow up to be. Right now he's just a boy, an injured boy asking for his mother. It's wrong to just let him die. You know that, James."

Her lip began to quiver and she held her hand to her belly like she felt sick. "I hate him so much," she whispered. "But I can't give into that. I can't be that person who lets a child die that way."

"You aren't that person," he assured her as he wrapped his arms around her. "Maybe they can help him. But, sweetheart, it ain't like their camp is close. It's a long walk with a hurt kid. He still might not make it."

She looked up at him, fear in her eyes. "Then you go. Go help her."

"I got my doubts that Kate wants my help," he replied. "She's the do-it-yourself type."

"Then go for me. Go help her for me, because I want you to," she whispered into his ear.

"Alright. For you." He kissed her and was glad because she looked so happy.

-0-

When he finally got back home, Juliet didn't look happy at all as Jack filled him in on Kate's extracurricular activities with Roger. Damn. Couldn't keep her mouth shut for thirty minutes.

She absolutely didn't look happy ten minutes later when he'd knocked Phil out cold.

_Boom_.

Four days ago, he was as happy as a man could possibly be. Now Dan was back, running on about variables and his Other mom, Juliet was pissed at him for some strange reason, and they had thirty minutes to get all their shit together and leave what used to be a very comfortable life.

_Boom._

The cops had come for them at last. Their three-year long con had run its course. Oddly enough, as he sat tied to a chair in what used to be his office, surrounded by people who used to be his friends, he realized that it hadn't felt like a con. It had felt like real life.

But it had been a con after all. He knew that from the beating they gave him. Every single time a job had ever gone bad on him before, he'd taken just that kind of whipping from somebody. By this point, no matter what he said, they'd never believe it. The only recourse was to take the beating due him for conning them.

_Boom. _

Phil hit Juliet and something inside his brain exploded. He'd take everything they'd dish out, but there was no way he'd allow them to touch her. Suddenly he was in a deal-making mood. All he wanted was out. If Chang was right and that island was about to go up, he wanted off that island and onto that sub like they'd planned.

His only regret was he couldn't go get her ring and do it right.

"You want on that sub, Jim?" Radzinsky snarled. "Draw me a map. I wanna know exactly where the Hostiles are."

So he drew.

Ten minutes later, he and Juliet were headed home. Off that damned island. He felt bad about leaving Miles and Jin behind. They were supposed to be ahead of them. And if the place really was about to go up in smoke, he wished he could get Hurley and Kate off too. But that was all. Dan and Jack had asked for it.

Unfortunately, all that was out of his control. The rest of them would just have to take their chances.

He sat handcuffed to a table, Juliet's hand in his, ready to turn the page. They were free. Plans for the future began to unspool in his head. All this time it had been the four of them, now it was two. But she had to know even off the island nothing had changed. He was going to be there for her from now on.

"Whatever happens, I got your back, remember?" he assured her.

"I love you," she answered, so calmly and coolly, that little hint of detachment he knew so well giving her words that slightly clinical tone. He knew how much it took out of her to say it.

So he laughed. "I love you back."

Then the hatch grew dark as one last passenger joined them.

Kate.

_Boom. _

_-0-_

He followed Juliet through the jungle, back to where Jack and the others waited with the van and a hydrogen bomb. It was over. Juliet had made the tough call. She was willing to risk her life to have a chance at a new one that didn't involve that damned island. He didn't blame her.

Then he remembered what Jack said about getting Kate back. If it was meant to be in that other reality, it was meant to be.

He glanced ahead at her long blonde hair swaying back and forth with each step.

It was meant to be. Somehow when he got back to LAX, he'd know. He'd remember her. He'd go looking and wouldn't stop until he found her, until he convinced her that they were meant to be together and not just for a little while.

Minutes later, the bomb fell. But instead of the loud _boom_ he expected, there was nothing.

The Dharma folks fought back; Chang failed to shut down the drill. Everything spun wildly out of control as the electromagnetic field pulled everything into its grip.

He watched in horror as Phil was impaled by flying rebar.

Then Kate called his name. He looked over to see Juliet falling into the mineshaft. Panic gripped his chest so hard he couldn't breathe. He threw himself toward the pit, grabbing her wrist just as the chains Kate clenched whipped out of her hands.

The field pulled at her, the chains wrapping and rewrapping in the magnetic storm like a snake constricting around his prey. He felt his joints stretch painfully as the chains doubled, tripled, then quadrupled their weight.

"It hurts!" Juliet cried.

He called for Kate to pull the chains free.

Juliet cried out in pain. "I can't. I can't get it off!" Her face was white and terror-stricken.

He pulled as hard as he could, but the metal structure around him began to give way.

"No!" she cried. When the platform buckled nearly in half, he saw her expression change from terror to resignation.

"It's okay," she assured him.

He begged her not to do it. He begged her not to leave him.

But she made the toughest call of all.

She did it because she loved him. Because she loved him so much she was willing to die to save him.

All the emotion he'd wanted from her for so long poured out in her last words to him. "I love you so much!" He begged her and pulled with all his might, but she did it.

She let him go.

As she slipped through his fingers and fell away into the darkness, he sobbed against the metal bars that creaked and groaned around him and he willed death to take him too.

Jack and Kate pulled him away just as the platform collapsed completely, its crushing weight falling into the shaft and he knew there was no way for her to survive when that tangle of steel hit the bottom. He sobbed and knew and called her name, listening for the sound it would make.

Instead the world went white.

_Boom. _


	29. Chapter 29 Weekend in New England

Chapter 29 Weekend in New England

**Last night I waved goodbye;  
>Now it seems years.<br>I'm back in the city  
>Where nothing is clear<br>But thoughts of me holding you,  
>Bringing us near.<br>And tell me**

**When will our eyes meet?  
>When can I touch you?<br>When will this strong yearning end?  
>And when will I hold you again?<strong>

_- "Weekend in New England" by Randy Edelman_

_as performed by Barry Manilow_

_Flashforward_

_"Dirty White Boy" blared on the stereo of the rental car as Miles navigated the streets of Los Angeles. "Where you want to eat lunch?" his friend asked. "I used to dream of this. My first meal back in civilization. I vote taco truck." _

_"Doesn't matter," James replied as he stared out the window. _

_"Okay," Miles answered. "Taco truck it is then." _

_They rode in silence for another mile or so. "So what next?" Miles asked him. "The airline made good for you guys and I got this crazy note from Hurley about $3.2 million that he said Ben owed me. I guess we can go where we want and do what we want." _

_"It don't matter," James replied woodenly. _

_"Okay, boss," Miles answered as he pulled over beside a very seedy-looking mobile taqueria. "In that case, once I get my taco, I'm headed for the nicest hotel I can find." _

_The radio announcer burst into the conversation, "Thanks for tuning into the Seventies on Seven. Coming up this hour we've got some Geronimo Jackson and Sly and the Family Stone. But first, let's slow it down with some Barry Manilow? Here's 'Weekend in New England.'" _

_Miles reached up to touch the dial. "I hate Manilow." _

_But James stopped him with a quick hand on his wrist. _

-0-

They were surrounded. Miles did his best to fight them off, but James did his worst. He swung the shovel at the four men like a broadsword, hoping to gut at least one of them.

"Leave me the hell alone!" he thundered.

"We just want you to come with us where you'll be safe. Where you can be protected," the man tried to tell him.

"I don't want your protection-" he swung the shovel at the man with a whoosh, "Or your help-"

James grunted as one of them hit him from behind with a fallen branch. He staggered with the blow, but instead of dazing him, it only pissed him off.

The rush of anger and adrenaline into his blood pushed aside his grief, and he threw himself even more viciously into the battle. The shovel's blade connected with one man's side and James grimaced with joy that he'd drawn first blood on the bastards.

These were the people who'd made her life hell for three years, he thought as he swung. They kept her a prisoner. If they'd let her go like she wanted, she would be safe in Miami right now, not lying under a mound of dirt thousands of miles from home.

Tears threatened to blind him and his shoulders burned with exertion as he knocked one of them to the ground with a tremendous blow. To the side, he could see that a red-haired guy had tackled Miles and held him in a chokehold.

He tried to cut through to his friend, but something hard slammed against the back of his head and everything went black.

When he came to consciousness who knew how much later, someone was bathing his forehead with cool water. In the first seconds of clarity, those gentle hands belonged to Juliet. She was taking care of him, probably after a serious drinking binge, judging from the size of his headache.

But the hard floor wasn't his bed and the last memory he had of Juliet didn't match this theory at all. He saw her in his arms once more. He remembered trying to wipe off the blood and dirt from her face because he knew she wouldn't want to be buried like that. He remembered smoothing her hair back and crossing her hands over her stomach before pulling the tarp across her body so she wouldn't get dirty.

His eyes opened to reveal Kate kneeling beside him. Her face was clean.

Juliet's words came back to him sharp in his memory – _"It's over, isn't it? Us. This. Playing house." _

He looked around the cave. Jack, Hurley, Sayid, Kate. The sight of them made him sick. He stared at Jack, who knelt beside Sayid's dead body, a bewildered look on his face. Another one dead. Another one Jack couldn't save. Another one Jack had killed by coming back. _Who's next?_ James wondered then decided he didn't give a damn.

"I'm not going to kill Jack," he assured Kate. There was no point in it.

To everybody's amazement, Sayid suddenly sat up. James watched the action from a distance, completely unmoved and unsurprised that the damned island had somehow brought him back. Of course it did.

The island gave Sayid back his life, but took hers. The island gave him everything he'd ever wanted - a life, a home, friends . . . someone who loved him for himself, no pretending, no games. Someone he'd loved more than he realized until the moment she'd slipped through his fingers. Then the island took her away.

Juliet was gone. Miles told him that at her grave.

But that didn't stop him from going home anyway.

-0-

He opened the front door of his house, his eyes closed. Maybe if he wished hard enough, the sky would light up and he'd be back there. Maybe he could stop it all from happening. Maybe he could just go home again.

He took two blind steps into the room and whispered, "I'm home."

But there was no answer.

The place was utterly silent. Not even the refrigerator hummed.

He opened his eyes and looked around. Dust covered everything, but the everything it covered wasn't the everything he remembered. The furniture was all rearranged, and most of it was new and different. The dining table hadn't changed though, and still sat in the same spot. He pulled out his chair and sat down for a moment. It felt so right.

But she wasn't in the kitchen.

He rose and walked into the bedroom, again completely rearranged. A large chest sat over the spot where he'd kept his stash. The floor had been recovered too. So he headed out to the tool shed in hopes of finding a hammer.

He found a crowbar instead. Inside the house, he shoved the chest aside and went to work on the boards, pulling them up with a sharp wooden crack. Miraculously, the shoebox still hid inside, covered in dust just like everything else. He picked it up and carefully wiped the top. The little velvet bag lay on top, just where he'd left it.

He heard the sound of steps in the hallway and leaped up. As much as he wanted it to somehow be her, he knew it wasn't so he picked up the pistol. "Who's there?" he yelled. "You better come out now or so help me I'm just going to start shooting!"

Kate.

Again.

When they first crashed, he'd have given his last carton of cigarettes for her to come after him, to look for him instead of Jack. He'd even wondered during those last days in Dharmaville if she'd come back to find him. Now, he could care less.

He picked up the little velvet bag and headed out to the pier, the place he was going to ask Juliet to marry him.

Kate followed.

He sat on the dock, ring in hand, and looked out over the water.

Kate came to sit with him. He should have been grateful for her presence, but he wasn't. All he wanted in that moment was to turn back the clock.

When Kate blamed herself for Juliet's death, he stopped her. None of it was Kate's fault. It was his. Juliet had stayed on that island because of him. He'd asked her to stay because he just didn't want to be alone. But as the years passed, she'd become part of him. She'd made him a better man. Without her, a piece of him was missing that he knew he'd never recover. She'd taken it with her.

Now she was gone.

Finally he understood what she was trying to tell him with her last breath. It had worked. He had lived. He'd held onto her because he couldn't face life without her, but she willing to die so he could live. Nobody ever loved him that much. Nobody else ever would. What they'd had was only for a little while because he didn't deserve to keep her."Some people are meant to be alone," he declared, his voice breaking as tears rolled down his face.

And alone, he headed back to the house that wasn't his house.

But as he opened the door again, he kept seeing Juliet coming through the door or brushing her hair in the bedroom mirror. When he tried to banish these visions, they were replaced by images of her the way he last saw her - pale and lifeless with blood on her face.

So he headed out again to search the buildings for some tangible item to hold onto, a talisman to keep the good memories fresh in his mind. Unfortunately the search only turned up heartbreak.

She'd been pregnant.

-0-

After discovering Juliet's personnel file with its little secret revelation inside, he'd lost his mind for a while. He'd wandered those empty paths between the houses feeling like he'd entered a ghost-town. He kept expecting to see Horace and Amy or the Changs or even fucking Radzinsky coming around the corner. He kept seeing himself with his arm around Juliet, their baby in her arms.

He came across the burned husk of the house Claire had been staying in when Keamy and his men blew it up. With a shiver, he realized this had been Juliet's New Otherton house. He tumbled through the burned timbers looking for something of hers; however, the contents had been turned to ash. A half-melted record player survived, but he couldn't even make out the label on the burned LP.

Nothing else had survived the fire.

He walked back to what had been his house and stripped out of his sooty clothing. At the sink only a trickle of water came out of the faucet. According to memory the mirror before him should have been bright and new, but now patches of dirty gray tarnish marred the reflection.

Even the faucet was no longer silver, but pitted with age.

His stomach rumbled. How long had it been since breakfast? It seemed like another age, but in reality it had only been hours ago that Juliet had made them a couple of sandwiches while they'd packed for the beach. He'd eaten his, but she'd thrown hers away, saying she felt sick.

The baby. Maybe that had been morning sickness and not nerves.

He went back to the dining room and sat in his chair with the letter he'd taken from her file. He read it again, his chest constricting at the words. "Pregnancy results are positive. Congratulations!"

"Why, Juliet?" he whispered.

But the house was silent. Across the room he spotted the liquor cabinet. A bottle of whiskey sat inside.

The first drink burned his throat. The second numbed it.

He wondered how many drinks it would take to numb his heart.

-0-

James stood in the cave with the thing that wasn't John Locke and looked up at the ceiling. There were so many names. All crossed out. Goodspeed and Chang were both present, but marked through.

He looked everywhere for her name. It had to be there. He finally found it, but not the Carlson he was looking for.

Burke. The island had called her there as Juliet Burke. Sure enough, her name bore a fresh line through it.

"Why her?" he asked roughly as they made their way out. "What did Jacob want with her?"

"You'd have to ask Jacob about that, James." UnLocke shrugged as he pushed through the jungle. "All that matters is that once this place was done with her, it let her go."

"Then there's no way I'm staying here," James replied bitterly. "Screw this damned island. Whenever you're ready to go, just say the word."

UnLocke gave him a friendly grin. "I will, James. I will."

Only Juliet called him James, he thought to himself as they walked through the jungle to Locke's camp. Kate had been calling him James too, and it grated on him. It had annoyed him ever since she'd thrown his real name at him that day in New Otherton when she'd run back to Jack again.

Miles had called him boss until he'd told him to stop. Jin used to call him LaFleur but that was over too.

Hurley and Jack had been calling him Sawyer. He hadn't heard that name in three years. It felt strange and uncomfortable, like an old jacket that didn't fit anymore.

So who was he?

He stepped into Locke's camp to see Claire of all people in front of a large makeshift tent set up in the clearing.

"Sawyer!" she cried and ran to him.

He couldn't believe his eyes. "How long have you been here?" he asked.

"Ever since you left," she answered, wiping away a tear of joy. "It's so good to see you again."

"You too," he replied earnestly and took her into a hug. "I looked everywhere for you."

"I was okay," she answered as she pulled away. "My friend was here. So was my dad. But I'm glad you're back."

He opened the door of the tent to see Jin leaning against the center post, a bandage on his leg.

"Sawyer!" Jin cried in surprise.

And that made it complete. He was Sawyer again.

-0-

Later on, he sat outside the tent on a fallen log, staring into the fire. Back to ground zero. Back in the jungle hunting damned boar.

It was like Locke had said. His house was gone. His life was gone. Juliet was gone. Everything he had worth keeping had died in his arms.

He didn't care why his name had been written on a cave ceiling by a lunatic. He didn't care why the thing that called itself John Locke was gathering a group in the jungle.

He just wanted the nightmare to end. He wanted to go home. But since that wasn't possible, he'd take getting off that rock.

He looked back over his shoulder into the tent where Claire knelt beside Jin, tending to the wound on his leg. If there was any way possible, he'd get Jin, Sun, Miles, and Claire off the island with him.

The rest could take their chances. They'd wanted to come back, now they were back.

As he stared into the fire, Juliet's face flickered before him, smiling in the glow. Then he watched her fall away into the darkness of the mine shaft. He shook his head and tried to dispel the memories before he began watching her die again, before he covered her face for the last time as he laid her body in the ground.

In the end he concentrated on the sound of a lone frog in the darkness, allowing the sound to fill his consciousness completely until he fell asleep.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"He left me, Miles," Claire sobbed at the breakfast bar. _

_"I know, Claire. I know," Miles assured her. "He left me too. But you've got to remember that he looked all over the island for you back in 1974. And when it mattered, he got you on that plane and got you home." _

_She nodded and sniffled. "He did. He and Kate got me home." She pushed her eggs around the plate a few seconds, then took a bite. "Are you upset that he left you too?" _

_Miles shrugged and turned away to put the milk back in the refrigerator. "Nah. We got separated after he left the temple. I always figured he was expecting me to look after myself. He was in a pretty bad place there for a while. He still is." _

_Jim coughed once in the hallway so they'd know he was coming. He felt bad at having eavesdropped. _

_"Morning, Krusty Crew," he gave them a forced smile. "What's left for breakfast?" _

_"We've got eggs and bacon and I can throw some toast in the oven for you," Miles offered. _

_"That's okay, hoss," Jim replied. "I've got it." _

_"I don't mind." Miles began pulling bread out of the bag. _

_Jim reached out to stop him. "No. You sit and eat your own breakfast. I've got this. You've done enough for me as it is." _

-0-

UnLocke had sent him back on Hydra Island. In the 70s he'd never gone there. Now he found there were entirely too many memories.

Just outside those damned cages was the spot where he'd first met Juliet. She'd tasered him, he remembered with a wry grin. Then just down the runway was the spot where he'd poured her water out on the ground.

And both places were just as populated with memories of Kate as they were with Juliet. When he'd stumbled across a piece of the past in the form of Kate's shirt in the polar bear cage, a wave of guilt ran over him. Just being there made him feel guilty, like he was cheating on Juliet.

He dropped the shirt again but the feel of the cloth still burned on his fingertips. When he left the cages, he began to walk back toward the spot he'd first seen her. Then he stopped himself. What was the point? It's not like she would be there, he thought to himself.

He forced himself to put her out of his mind and continue his mission. He used to be good at pretending he cared. Maybe he could be just as good at pretending he didn't.

-0-

"I'm Sawyer," he declared to the strange dark-haired woman he found by the plane.

"I'm Zoe," she offered in reply.

And his stomach turned. After three years of trying to become someone else, three years of parole, of grace, he was back claiming his old alias just like nothing had ever happened.

What would Juliet have to say about that? He couldn't help but wonder for a moment. But as quickly as her face flashed into his consciousness, he banished the vision.

She was gone.

The page had turned and no amount of drinking or misery or denial would change it. Whatever happened, happened and that was the end of it.

-0-

Only a day later, he was back on Hydra again. It was like that damned island had a vendetta against him.

When they hit the beach off the sailboat, he focused on his objective - to get the group to that submarine and get the hell out of there. Then he heard a familiar voice – Jin called to his wife.

He'd watched Jin and Sun embrace at last and a sharp stab of grief threatened to overcome him. "I love you!" Sun had cried and the words echoed back to him in Juliet's last coherent words to him.

"I love you, James! I love you so much!" she had sobbed just before she let him go. As happy as he was for Sun and Jin, he couldn't help but ache for the one thing he needed most.

He heard Kate sniffle beside him and he shot a glance at her. Jack had bailed over the side of the boat, and she'd had a chance to follow, to stick with him, but she hadn't taken it. Did she miss him? Did she feel guilty?

Back in the damned cage, Sun and Jin held hands and talked about their daughter. Sawyer forced himself to ignore them, knowing that if he didn't, all he'd see would be her face falling away from him into the darkness.

He was almost glad when the power went out and the shooting started. Adrenaline coursed through him as they fought their way onto the submarine. With no time to think or remember, he pulled the hatch closed behind him, only marginally upset to leave Claire again.

Back in the 70s, he'd seen people he thought he knew turned into murderous zombies by that thing on the dock. He felt sorry for her, but he knew what she'd become, how dangerous she was. With them it was kill or be killed. He did feel bad about Miles though.

The sub pulled away from the dock, and he settled back against the bulkhead with a sigh of relief. He was free.

Down the hallway was a central dining area, just like there had been on the Galaga. A steel table stood bolted to the floor in the center and he suddenly sat there across from Juliet, her hand in his, just like Jin and Sun.

But she was gone. He was alone.

Down the corridor, the doc called for a first aid kit.

Then Jack reached into his pack and pulled out a bomb.

-0-

_Miles got back into the car with his taco in his hand. "So did you decide where you want to go?" he asked. _

_"When will our eyes meet? When can I touch you? When will this strong yearning end? And when will I see you again?" Barry sang as the song ended. _

_As the music faded away, James felt something begin to break inside him. He turned off the radio with a firm push. _

_ "Vegas. Let's go to Vegas," James finally found it in himself to answer. _


	30. Chapter 30 -- Jack

Chapter 30 - Jack

_Flash Sideways_

_Detective Jim Ford shook his head as the Korean guy – Kwon, he thought the name was – grinned at him like he knew him. "We'll see you there," the man said cryptically then left the hospital room, his arm around his girlfriend. She turned at the door and smiled as well, but hers was touched with wistfulness or maybe sympathy. _

_He followed the two into the hallway, but they turned a corner and he lost them when he stopped to check his phone for a text from Miles. Maybe the perp – Jarrah – was still at the concert. He hoped Miles could corner him. _

_His stomach rumbled. _

_A dark-haired doctor nearly ran him down, his head was so buried in his chart. _

_"Hey, you know where I could get some grub around here?" Jim asked him. _

_The doctor looked around briefly as if checking to see if Jim was really speaking to him. "Uhh," he stammered, then continued, "the cafeteria's closed, but there's a vending machine down the hallway." _

_"Thanks, doc," Jim replied, all the time unable to shake the feeling that he ought to know this guy – and that Korean couple. He seemed so damned familiar for some reason. _

-0-

When James awoke, he had sand in his mouth. He could hear the sound of waves crashing against the beach and people crying. _What happened?_ he wondered. The last thing he remembered was slamming the hatch closed on the sub.

He sat up, pain lancing through his skull, and gingerly touched the top of his head, pulling away blood on his fingertips.

He remembered seeing Jin's face. The boat was filling with water and Jin begged him to help Sun. He searched the beach for them in the moonlight. Kate and Hurley stood off to one side, sobbing on each other's shoulders. Jack stood further away, staring out onto the surf.

A sudden coughing spell racked him and he gagged on seawater as he knelt on his hands and knees, trying to clear his chest. The noise brought Jack to his side, true to his doctor's instincts.

"You okay?" the doc asked. James could see that Jack's face was damp as he wiped at his eyes.

"Yeah," James managed to reply. "Where's Jin?"

"He's gone. He and Sun both. They didn't make it off the sub."

Jack's words settled over him like heavy earth, burying him in their finality. He remembered the bomb. Jack had a bomb.

He'd promised Jin he'd get him and Sun off that damned island. He'd told Jin they wouldn't leave without her.

But that had been a lie.

Just like the lie he'd told Juliet. "I've got you," he'd said. But he couldn't hold on.

Now Jin was dead too.

"You should have helped them. You should have left me and helped them," James growled as Jack turned to walk away. "They had everything to live for. You should have left me to die."

"I just did what Jin told me to do," Jack replied, shaking his head. "If you feel up to walking, we need to head inland. We need to find Desmond."

James rose to his feet and walked to the water's edge. Moonlight played on the waves and the pieces of metal that floated in the surf. Jin was gone. Just like that. So soon after finding Sun again.

Kate came and leaned against his arm, whether to comfort him or to seek comfort for herself, he didn't know. He just knew that he felt empty, used up. Everyone he cared about was gone. Miles, Jin . . . Juliet. And all for nothing.

-0-

Hugo walked ahead of him, following Jack's trail. "Jack, what are we going to do with Desmond when we find him?" the big guy asked.

"I don't know. I just know that we need him," Jack answered. "Trust me."

-0-

_Flashback_

_"We drop this thing and it's all going to go away. We're back in LA like nothing ever happened," Jack earnestly assured Kate as he and Juliet walked up to the van. Sayid lay bleeding in the back seat. Jin knelt beside him, a concerned expression on his face. But Kate looked doubtful. "Trust me," Jack repeated. _

_-0-_

_Flashback_

_"Nothing is going to happen," Jack earnestly assured them all as the timer ticked down the seconds. _

_"It's not your decision to make," James replied firmly. _

_"He can't kill us!" Jack sounded so convinced. _

_But James wasn't. He'd heard Jack sound convinced before. "I'm not gonna stand here and do nothing!" he shouted back._

_Jack grabbed his arms and stared him right in the eyes. "James. We are going to be okay. You just have to trust me." _

_That tore it. The last time he trusted Jack's gut instinct, it had been wrong and Juliet died. If he trusted him this time, who else would die? _

_"Sorry, doc. I don't." Then James made the hard call and pulled out the wires. _

-0-

He wandered through the jungle, the memories coming back to him in brilliant flashes of clarity. He could hear the fear in Hurley's voice when Jack pulled out the bomb. Sayid's last instructions replayed in his head like a recording, just before he ran to the rear of the sub, taking the bomb with him.

For a moment, James tried to tell himself that the bomb would have gone off no matter what. That his pulling those wires did nothing more than make it happen just a little bit faster.

But deep inside, a voice whispered to him that if he'd just left it alone, it would have been fine.

Juliet should have been there. She should have been standing beside him, her hand on his arm, either stopping him or giving her blessing. Then he would have known what to do. She always knew the right thing, even when he didn't.

Now he followed Jack through the heavy green branches of the ever-present jungle, one thought uppermost in his mind.

"I killed them, didn't I?" he asked aloud. But he already knew the truth. Jack had been right. He should have trusted him.

"No. He killed them," Jack replied.

In that moment, James knew he owed the doc more than his life. He owed him a piece of self-respect.

-0-

Around the fire, Jacob's damned ghost spouted a crapload of mystic garbage about protecting the island but all his little speech did was piss James off. "Tell me something, Jacob," he began angrily. "Why do I got to be punished for your mistake? What made you think you could mess with my life? I was doing just fine until you dragged my ass to this damned rock."

Even as Jacob contradicted him, James knew he'd mis-spoken. Jacob was right. He wasn't fine before he came there. But God damn it, he'd been fine for the past three years. Better than fine. For the first time in his life, he'd been happy. He'd been loved. He'd loved someone else. What gave Jacob or anybody else on that island the right to give him a gift like that and then take it all away?

When Jack took the job of protector, James wasn't a bit surprised. After all, he'd left a perfectly wonderful life in LA to get back to that misbegotten piece of rock, dragging Kate and Hurley and Sun with him. He wished to God they'd all stayed home. Juliet would still be here. Jin and Sun would still be here. Miles would still be here.

-0-

As things went from mystic to worse, James found himself wrestling with a fallen tree on an island being shaken apart by earthquakes. A few minutes later, he heard Miles' voice on the radio. He barely restrained himself from snatching it up in relief like a lifeline. They weren't all gone. Miles was still alive.

But as Kate grabbed it and began asking hysterically about Claire, he calmed down again. Miles was okay. They were going to the plane. All James had to do was get there.

They ran to the cliff only to find Jack and UnLocke grappling to the death. The shot Kate fired from the side took him completely by surprise and he watched in appreciation as Jack kicked the monster's body over the cliff into the water.

Kate ran to Jack's side and James saw the doc pull away a hand covered in blood. It didn't look good. The two of them got very wrapped up in one another for a moment and he looked away, tears springing to his eyes.

Was this how Sun and Jin looked in the last moments they'd had before the water took them? Was this how he and Juliet had looked just before she breathed her last?

His stomach clenched as he looked back just in time to see them kiss, certain these two were saying goodbye.

"Go. Go get Claire on that plane," Jack instructed her.

And to James's surprise, she left him.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_Kate's doorbell rang, interrupting the quiet conversation going on between Kate and Claire in the kitchen. James looked up from his spot on the sofa next to Miles and wondered who could have come calling. Everybody who might drop by was there already. _

_He and Miles had shown up for dinner as invited, Claire was living at Kate's – an arrangement that had been so tumultuous in the past two weeks that Aaron had gone to stay at Claire's mother's apartment – and Richard had even come by, despite his repeated assurances that he was headed for Europe any day. _

_Miles gave Kate a quizzical look, and at her nod headed through the foyer to open the door. _

_Hugo stood there, a big grin on his face. _

_"How in the hell did you get here?" Miles asked incredulously. _

_"Dude, it's a long story," Hugo answered, pulling him in for a bearhug. _

_James rose from the sofa to give the big guy a hug of his own, grinning from ear to ear. _

_Of the group, only Richard didn't press Hugo for answers as to his arrival, instead hanging back with a little grin on his face. "I wondered how fast you'd get the hang of the place," Richard commented as he shook Hugo's hand. "Ben still there?"_

_"Holding down the fort for me," Hugo replied. "I had to drop Desmond off at the marina and sent Cindy and the kids off to a hotel for a day or two to chill. My mom's gone over there to stay with them." _

_Once Hugo had half-placated them with an abbreviated version of just what travel meant to the Island's protector, he grabbed a bag of chips and sat down with them. _

_"So Jack can just send you wherever he wants you to go?" Kate asked with a big smile. "He must love it." _

_Hugo's face fell. "Oh my God. That's right. You didn't know." _

_James watched as Kate's face fell. How did she not know? Even before Hugo spoke the words, James knew Jack was dead. He knew Jack was going to die when he saw the wound in his side, when he heard him send Kate away with the words "I love you" still fresh on his lips. _

-0-

"You ready?" James stood on the edge of the cliff, still not believing that Kate was leaving with him. In an earlier day, he'd have rejoiced, thinking that her decision to leap into the sea and swim to the sailboat was somehow a choice to be with him.

Now he knew better. "Go get Claire on that plane," Jack had said and James had seen her face change from worry to resolution. Kate had someone to save – Claire. But how could she leave Jack again to do it?

They practically dragged Claire onto the jet and Kate fell into the seat next to her, taking her dirty hand with a reassuring smile.

"Way to wait until the last second, Jim," Miles quipped, but he could tell his friend had been worried.

"Good to see you too, Enos," James replied as he threw himself into a seat. The ground trembled and shook beneath the jet's wheels but they kept rolling forward, faster and faster until the green of the jungle began to recede and the mountains dwindled into tiny hills, then into a green dot on the ocean.

James watched as they departed, realizing that the island had finally let him go. He glanced over at Kate, still unable to believe she was so calm about leaving Jack to die.

He looked back out the window, glad to be rid of the place, but feeling the pull back into the jungle, back to the place he'd laid Juliet to rest. He felt that connection to her and those years in the 70s stretch tight like a bowstring. His breath caught in his chest and he knew he was about to lose it.

Instead, he clamped down hard on his heart, told it to deal with it, to toughen up, that whatever happened had happened and he'd better start making the hard calls to survive.

After a few minutes, he felt a piece of himself turn to ice and he knew he'd be able to keep it together.

Now he just felt empty.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"Kate, Jack's dead," Hurley informed her gently. "Rose and Bernard found him in the bamboo field. We buried him on the beach with the rest." _

_Silence hung in the room, then Claire gave a little gasp and began to cry. James went to her, since everyone else seemed frozen in place. _

_"It's okay, Claire," he murmured as he pulled her into his arms. "That was how Jack wanted it." _

_Kate stood up from her seat at the kitchen table and glared at him angrily. "What the hell do you mean by that?" she demanded. "What makes you think you know anything about what Jack wanted?"_

_James didn't answer, he just held Claire tightly as she sobbed and clung to him. _

_"He was my brother," she finally whispered. "All that time we were together we didn't know it. But he was my brother." _

_James took in her words and stroked her hair. Kate had walked over the French doors that led to the patio and stood there, her arms crossed defensively across her chest as she gazed into the backyard. _

_After a moment, Richard walked over to her and put a hand on her shoulder. At first she shrugged him away, but he spoke to her in a low voice and James could see her face crumble as she listened to him. Finally, she broke down into sobs and leaned into Richard's embrace. _

-0-

James watched Miles chow down on his first taco from home. Finally free of the Oceanic inquisition, the group had been released into LA with strict instructions not to say anything to the press. Everything about their arrival had been hushed up, covered up, smoothed over, or bribed away.

Even Kate's violation of her parole had become a non-issue in light of the influence of Oceanic and a company James had never heard of – Mittelos Bioscience. However, Richard seemed very familiar with them.

"Just go along with what they tell you," Richard had instructed the group. "Trust me, you don't want to be on these people's bad side."

It was one of the Mittelos crew who had handed Miles an envelope containing a message from Hurley of all people about some money Ben owed him.

It was Richard, though, who'd asked James to drop by the group's LA headquarters that afternoon.

"So are we headed to Las Vegas?" Miles asked curiously.

"Not yet." James had reconsidered his decision to hit Barry Manilow's live show in favor of seeing just what Mittelos wanted with him.

They pulled the rental car into the parking lot of the glass and steel building and headed through the double doors into an understatedly elegant lobby.

The receptionist looked up at them, her eyes widening as a look of recognition flashed across her face. "Mr. Ford. Mr. Chang – I mean, Straume. Welcome to Mittelos' Los Angeles offices. I believe Mr. Alpert is waiting for you in his office."

"Richard has an office in LA?" Miles wondered sardonically as they rode the elevator to the top floor.

"Makes you wonder, doesn't it?" James replied.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a plush lobby area manned by yet another receptionist. "This way," she said as she stood and waved them through a large wooden door.

"You come here often?" James asked Richard as he rose from behind a large mahogany desk to greet them.

"I do," Richard answered. "But this is the first time I flew here directly on an airplane. The travel process is usually a bit more . . . abrupt." He gave them a tight smile and waved them into some very comfortable leather side chairs. "I have some information for you, James."

He passed over a large brown envelope containing a single sheet of paper. The name Rachel Carlson and an address in Miami were typed on it.

"Rachel Carlson is Juliet's-"

"Sister. Yeah, I know the name." James snapped. "Tell me, Alpert, if you could come and go so easily from that place, why couldn't she?"

"Jacob," Richard replied evenly, as if that answered everything. "I could come and go as needed, so could Ben and several others of our people. But some of you were prevented from leaving the island unless he specifically granted passage. She was not allowed to leave. He wanted her there for a reason."

James considered the sight of her name in white chalk on the ceiling of a cave. "His reason sucked," came James's determination.

"I don't disagree. But now that Jacob is no longer the leader, I suppose the rules may have changed." Richard pulled another small white envelope from his desk and passed it to Miles. "We got this earlier today. Hugo didn't waste any time."

Miles pulled out a cashier's check covered in numbers. His friend whistled under his breath. "$3.2 mill," he commented. "Any other time in my life I'd have taken this and run away to Hawaii. Now I think maybe Tahoe."

James rose from his comfy chair, carefully folding the piece of paper bearing Rachel Carlson's address and stashing it in his wallet.

"Are you going to Miami?" Richard asked. "If you do, please tell her sister I'm sorry. I mean that."

James shook his head. "No. I'm not going to Miami. Not yet. She's waited six years to hear from us. A few more weeks won't hurt her." The ice inside him began to melt a little, so he tightened down his emotions until his heart froze back again.

"So I'll see you around?" Richard asked.

"Kate will know where to find us," James answered. He shook Richard's outstretched hand, albeit reluctantly, and he and Miles headed downstairs.

They got back into the rental car and Miles asked, "Where to then, boss? After the bank of course."

"Tahoe. Let's look for some snow." James answered.


	31. Chapter 31 -- Under Ice

Chapter 31 - Under Ice

James woke from a deep sleep to the sound of Miles yelling out "No!" at the TV screen. He dragged himself out of bed and wandered into the room where he stopped cold.

On the show a woman doctor in a white coat with long brown hair stood there talking to a patient. She looked nothing like Juliet, but there was something about the way she looked at the camera, something about her earnestness that tugged at him. He'd seen that same demeanor from Juliet a thousand times.

What was it? Some kind of doctor focus? Some way of detaching from the moment? Of putting the emotions on hold so the brain could work unimpeded?

"Pause it," James whispered and the scene froze with the woman's image stenciled across it, larger than life. "Who is that?" he asked.

"Meredith Grey. One of the doctors at Seattle Grace Mercy Something hospital," Miles replied. "She hooked up with Dr. McDreamy but they're on the outs because his wife came back. And there's this other chick who is oh my God incredible to look at. But my heart belongs to - "

"That's okay. I'll just watch with you for a minute. I'll figure it out as I go," James replied and sat on the end of the sofa.

He was briefly drawn into the storyline – something about a prom for a dying girl and a blonde doctor trying to get a heart for her boyfriend -tragedy after predictable tragedy. Even the dog had cancer.

"He'll die," James commented out of nowhere as the heart patient guy proposed to his doctor girlfriend.

"Who? Denny?"

"He'll die. I watched enough ER to know that. Right at the moment when he's got everything to live for, he'll die. That's how TV works."

When it happened, he was surprised to hear Miles sniffling from his end of the couch. Hadn't he warned him?

But the sound of the blonde doctor crying tore at him. The actress was good. That kind of heartbreak was hard to fake.

Suddenly the room closed in on him, and his own chest began to feel warm and tight.

"I'm done," he grunted. "Goodnight."

And he went back upstairs to his room and slipped into the huge empty bed with the icy cold sheets and tried to breathe.

-0-

_Flashback_

_Juliet turned the dial down on the little air conditioning unit another notch as she came in. "It is sweltering out there," she moaned as she went to stand before the vents, unzipping her jumpsuit as she did so to reveal a white tanktop underneath. _

_James grinned at the sight and passed her a cold brew out of the fridge. "Tell you what, Blondie. When we get back to civilization, the first place I'm taking you is someplace cold. Like Minnesota or the Rockies. We'll climb Pike's Peak and lay down and make snow angels."_

_She took a long drink of the beer and ran the cold bottle over her neck and throat. He began to get unbelievably aroused at the sight_.

Just like watching a beer commercial back home_, he thought_. Only better.

_"I've never seen snow. That would be fun," she answered, slipping the arms of her jumpsuit off her shoulders. He caught glimpses of her bellybutton as she shrugged the top down so that the coveralls bagged around her waist._

_Unable to resist the sight, he went over behind her and began to kiss the back of her neck. "You've never seen snow? At all?" he asked between kisses. _

_"No. I grew up in South Florida and went to school in Southern California. None of my planned trips to the mountains ever panned out. Then when I finished med school I was right back in Miami. No snow," she replied. _

_He pulled at the barrette holding her hair, releasing it to fall around her shoulders. "You sure you want to do that?" she asked. "I am so hot." _

_"Yes, I'm sure," he answered as he pulled her tanktop over her head and tossed it to the floor. "I've got ways of cooling you off before I heat you right back up again," he teased as he pulled her down the hall to the shower. _

_Within seconds they both stood naked beneath the cool spray and he watched as she closed her eyes to let the water pour over her hair and face. _

_She was so beautiful. And she was his. _

_-0-_

"Damn!" Miles cried out as he tossed the DVD case to the couch. "I just caught up on Season 3 but now we're in the middle of Season 4 and the new episode won't be out until January. I have got to find a way to catch up between now and then."

James looked over from his spot at the French doors overlooking the mountainside. Miles had been up all night watching television – catching up on the essential TV he'd missed for the last three years was how he put it.

Now _Grey's Anatomy_ seasons one through three lay in a pile of silver on the top of the dvd player.

"I have no idea why you are so hung up on that show," James sighed as he looked back out onto the snowy peaks of Squaw Valley. It was early in the season yet but there was a nice layer of fresh powder on the slopes and the air was fresh and crisp against his face when he opened the balcony doors and stepped outside. The wind whipped a little swirl of snowflakes over his feet.

Cold. It had been such a long time since he'd felt the cold.

"That's why," Miles hurried onto the balcony and thrust a copy of the dvd into James's hand, pointing to the cast picture. "I can't get enough of this woman."

"Really?" James asked with a little grin. "You've got plenty of money. Go for it."

"Not the actress, dumbass. She's probably only into soccer stars or male models. I am in love with the character. Can't help it." Miles sighed then shivered. "It's so freaking cold out here. I'm going back in. I've got three seasons of _House_ to catch up on next."

James leaned over the balcony with a laugh, but his laugh choked in his throat just a little and that uncomfortable warmth began to creep back into his chest. When he closed his eyes, he could still see that heartbroken blonde girl sobbing uncontrollably in her pink prom dress.

So he opened his eyes instead and looked out over the treeline, watching the evergreens sway in the wind with their branches tipped in white.

He watched them until the warmth faded away in his fingertips and in his heart, until he was safely detached again. Then he went inside.

-0-

The days at Squaw Valley passed quietly. Miles watched a lot of television, declaring his intention to catch up on everything he'd missed. James walked in the woods. Neither of them skied or even wanted to try.

"I don't need a broken leg to go with everything else. I just want to sit here and relax and let myself get back up to speed," Miles reiterated. "And if that means watching TV in front of a warm fire with plenty of takeout pizza, I guess I can make the sacrifice."

-0-

Late one evening a week into their mountain retreat, James's new cell phone rang. There was only one person who could be calling. The person who'd given him the phone. Kate.

"Can you please come home?" she asked, her voice trembling. "I need your help."

"Yeah, sure," he answered. "What's wrong?"

"It's Claire. But it's not really her fault. It's all been so hard on her," Kate began to make excuses.

"I know, but she's violent and unpredictable, right?" he assumed and headed down the hall to tell Miles they were leaving in the morning.

"She's not crazy," Kate declared angrily.

"I never said she was," he snapped back. "We'll be back tomorrow. Just send Aaron to visit a friend until we get there and get somebody to come stay with you while you're at it. You shouldn't be alone with her."

"Okay," she acquiesced and was so easy about it that he really began to worry. He took a glance out the window where a fresh snow had begun to fall. If it had been clear, he'd load Miles up and leave right then. But a snowy mountain road in the dark sounded like a one-way ticket to the ER at Seattle Grace to him.

Once he'd hung up the phone, he went to tell Miles they were leaving.

"So Kate's finally hit her crazy limit?" Miles asked as he began to throw things into his duffle bag.

"I wouldn't use that word around them, but yeah, I think so," James answered.

-0-

When they pulled into Kate's the next afternoon, James was glad to see an extra car in the drive. Behind the house he thought he heard the sound of a kid squealing. Miles headed inside but he decided to walk around back just to be sure Aaron wasn't hurt or something.

Just off Kate's patio was a large wooden play structure complete with multiple slides and swings. The little blonde boy he saw in one of the swings had to be Aaron. He couldn't believe it. The last time he'd seen him, he'd been just a tiny baby crying in his arms.

In the other swing sat a little girl with light brown hair. She was laughing hysterically at something. He figured she was probably one of the neighbor's kids.

"Hey," he called out as he walked around the side of the house.

"Yay! Somebody to push!" the little girl cried out. "Come push Aaron. He can't swing yet."

"Sure," he agreed. "You ready?" he asked the little boy who looked so tiny and so grown at the same time.

Aaron gave him a nod and he pulled back the swing high enough to make him laugh out loud when he let go.

"Hey, push me! Push me!" the little girl demanded as well.

"Nope. You know how to swing already. You're too big to be pushed," he teased.

"But you push really good. Pull me up way high like you did Aaron – please?" The girl filled her plea at the end with enough sweetness and helplessness that he caved and stepped behind her.

He caught her swing on the back of its next arc. She seemed to be a few years older than Aaron, maybe six or seven, but she still seemed to weigh next to nothing as he pulled her several feet higher into the air. She squealed with delight when he let her go and he couldn't help but grin.

The next several minutes consisted of pushing each of the kids, which thrilled them and began to bore him silly.

"You push better than Jack," the girl commented out of nowhere. "He only pushes Aaron about three times then goes back inside."

Well, that's one thing he did better than Jack, James thought with a wry grin and redoubled his pushing efforts almost without realizing it.

"Did Jack come back with you?" the girl asked curiously.

"Nope. Jack had to stay," James answered.

"I miss Jack," Aaron whispered quietly. "He reads me stories."

James's chest began to clench and his throat tightened. "I used to read you stories too. When you were a tiny baby." He stopped the boy's swing and knelt in front of him. "Jack can't come back now, just like I couldn't come back before. But a long time ago when you were really little, I read you stories and carried you around. You used to pee on me," he finished with a laugh.

The little boy giggled and smiled at him. Claire's eyes. He had Claire's eyes, James realized. "Are you my daddy?" Aaron asked innocently.

The question rocked him to the core and it took everything he had not to jump up and run backwards. But he took a deep breath and prepared to answer.

"No, silly. He's not your daddy, Aaron. We don't have daddies. Just mommies. And you have two mommies now, Auntie Kate and Claire," the girl responded wisely as she stopped her swing.

"That makes three of us because I don't have a daddy either," James answered. "And neither does Miles." Or Kate, or Claire. The realization made him shiver. Somebody needed a daddy out of this crowd. "But I'll be your Uncle James, okay?"

"Who's Miles?" Aaron asked.

Just then Kate came to the back door. "Time to go, sweetie. Your mom is ready to leave," she gestured at the little girl.

"Thanks for pushing, Uncle James," the girl said, then spontaneously threw her arms around his neck for a hug.

He patted her back. "Anytime, Girlie," he answered, his chest suddenly much tighter. She skipped off to the house, pausing long enough to hug Kate at the door.

"You wanna come meet Miles?" James asked Aaron. He nodded and reached up both arms to him. He froze only an instant before picking the little boy up. "You're heavier than you were the last time I carried you." He let his mouth run a cover for him as his chest and throat burned inside him.

"I missed you," Aaron murmured out of nowhere and rested his head on James's shoulder. James reached up to rub the boy's soft blonde hair and wondered for a moment how it would feel if Aaron was his son.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"Run! Go, boy!" Jim called out to the kid on second base. The ball had hit the ground far out in the outfield._

_ The boy turned at his voice and his eyes connected with Jim's in the stands. He ran. He ran as fast as he could toward third, but the coach was still watching the outfield. So he looked back into the stands for guidance. _

_Jim stood up where the boy could see him and urgently waved him on to home. "Go! Slide!" he yelled. The ball was making its way back from the outfield, now to the second baseman, but Aaron was nearly there. Jim's breath caught in his chest. Would he beat the ball to the plate? _

_Aaron slid for home just as the ball sailed in toward the catcher. In a cloud of dust, Jim waited for the umpire's call. _

_"Safe!" _

_"Way to go, son!" Jim called out to him. "Good job!" _

_Minutes later the game ended and Aaron came running from the dugout. "We won!" the boy called as he ran toward him. "Wait till Mom hears I scored the winning run!" _

_"She's going to be so mad she couldn't be here," Jim replied throwing his arm over the kid's shoulders. "But she'll make the next one." _

_Across the parking lot, a teenage girl came running, wearing a softball uniform of her own. "Is it over? What did I miss?" _

_"I slid home on a double for the winning run! Dad waved me in because the coach was picking his nose," Aaron laughed. Jim ruffled his hair but had to reach up higher than he expected to do it. How could he be playing with the twelve year olds? He was still supposed to be three. _

_"How about you, Girlie? Is yours over already? I was going to catch the last few innings," Jim asked the young lady. _

_"We won by the ten run rule," she replied smoothly. "It lasted three innings only because the coach played everybody once we were ahead twelve. I only batted once." _

_"And?"_

_"I struck out."_

_"No biggie. You'll get 'em next time," Jim replied but he wasn't surprised. Clem wasn't much of a ball player. _

_"I think I'm done with softball. I'd rather cheer anyway," she answered, looking up at him hesitantly. _

_"Sounds good to me. You gave it your best shot. If you don't like it, it's time to end it so you can begin something new," Jim offered in his Father Knows Best voice. _

_"So that's okay? Mom doesn't want me to quit. She says quitters never win." She sounded a little angry. _

_Not good. He had a good working relationship with Cassidy and didn't want to jeopardize it by countermanding her parenting advice. But he was the dad and he took that seriously. His first priority was to do right by his daughter. _

_"Your mom's got a point. Randomly starting and quitting things without commitment shows a lack of maturity. You've got to start things you intend to finish. But sometimes after you work at something a while, you know you are better off to end it, sort of like trimming back a rose bush. If you don't cut back the branches that aren't helping the bush thrive, it can't grow and become the bush it ought to be," Jim offered. _

_"Did that happen between you and mom?" Clem asked directly. "Is that why you guys broke up?" _

_Jim hesitated a step. Boy, she sure knew how to cut straight through things. "Maybe it's time to fill you two in on a particularly strange period in the past," he thought aloud. "But I can't really do that without talking to your mom, Aaron. This is her story too." _

_"Mom thinks I don't know about stuff. But I do. I remember more than she thinks I do," Aaron stated evenly. "Dad, I remember the island." _

_Jim stopped, his hand on the passenger door of the truck, his throat suddenly tight. "You do?" he somehow forced out the words. _

_"Walt says it's because I'm special." Aaron pulled open the door and hopped inside. _

_"Hey, I'm special too, brat," Clementine retorted as she tossed her equipment bag into the truck bed and opened the cab's back door. _

_Jim made sure both his kids were safely buckled in and walked around to the driver's side. He could hear the two of them squabbling inside. "You are," he whispered to her through the glass. "You're both special." _

-0-

Aaron clung to him even once they were inside, so he sat down on the sofa with him. The boy curled up in his lap and leaned against his shoulder, clearly not going anywhere.

At the front door, he could hear the little girl's voice telling Auntie Kate goodbye. Another voice spoke softly, a woman's voice, but the conversation was so hushed he couldn't make out any of it. Once the front door closed, Kate came back into the living room.

"So, did you make friends?" she asked, an odd look on her face.

"I guess," he answered looking down at the blonde head on his shoulder. "He seems to have taken a liking to me. Is Claire okay?"

"She's upstairs with Miles," Kate sighed. "It's been tough. Aaron's been spending a lot of time with his grandmother."

"I don't like her," Aaron sighed. "Claire is scary. She holds onto me and cries."

"She missed you so bad, baby," Kate tried to tell him.

"I missed you. And I miss Jack," Aaron said with a sniffle. "When's he coming back?"

"I don't know," Kate answered. "But I miss Jack too."

"You know," James felt a desperate need to change the subject, "you and I need to go for a ride. When you were a baby I tried to tell you all about cars, but you were too little to understand. You give me until tomorrow and I'll have a car worth riding in, okay?"

"Okay," Aaron yawned.

"You want to go lie down? It's about nap time," Kate stood and held out her hands. But Aaron shrunk even deeper into James's arms.

"How about if I take you? Will you show me how to get to your room?" James asked. Aaron nodded so James rose from the sofa, the boy in his arms. Kate looked sad at having been passed over, so James gave her an apologetic grin.

Aaron pointed the way up the stairs and down the hall. They passed a doorway which opened just as they passed. Miles slipped out of it, a frown on his face. "She's nuts," he commented.

James shot him a hard warning look, hoping Aaron didn't understand. "Nuts about you," Miles covered, patting the boy awkwardly on the shoulder.

"It's naptime, Uncle Miles. Go lie down," James instructed. Aaron pointed to the next doorway, already open to reveal a bedroom clearly meant for a little boy.

Once on the bed, Aaron didn't let go of him. "Tell me a story," he requested.

James looked at the shelf of books and asked, "What do you want to hear?"

"Don't read me a story. Tell me a story," Aaron demanded but with a sweet yawn that softened James's resolve.

"Fine, then." He sat on the end of the bed and began telling the boy a story his daddy used to tell him. "Once upon a time, there was a woodcutter who lived next to a big forest with his three huge dogs, You-lo, Hi-lo, and Pennsylvania. . ."

Once Aaron had fallen asleep, James headed back downstairs to join Kate and Miles in the kitchen. "Tell you what," James began. "Let me find a place close to here and I'll help you out until things settle down."

"There's a house for sale just down the block," Kate offered, excitement in her voice.

"All right. Let me get with the agent and take care of that," he replied.

"You sure, boss?" Miles asked, pulling him into the hallway. "Think for a minute. You sure you want to buy a house here in Crazytown?"

"Why not? It's not like I can't afford it. They handed out plenty of hush money. I'm going to buy a Mustang or a Camaro in the morning. Or maybe a Corvette. I always kind of wanted a 'Vette," James replied.

"But here? In the middle of all of them?" Miles persisted.

"I got no better place to go," James sighed. Then he realized that Miles might want to go somewhere else. The thoughts of Miles moving away didn't sit well with him. "You want to go someplace else? Back to Tahoe? Or back where you used to live?"

Miles shook his head and sighed. "Nope. I got no better place to go either, I guess. Sounds like Crazytown it is."

By the next afternoon, James had bought the house down the street and a Challenger. Miles had bought another couple of tacos which he insisted on eating in the new car.

When the realtor heard he needed furniture as well, she passed him the card of a decorating firm. All he could think of was his Aunt Noreen's Home Interiors décor so he was beyond surprised to find that he actually liked the things they brought in the house.

As houses go, it wasn't ridiculously huge. Kate had picked a very nice but ordinary neighborhood to settle in, so the purchase price of the house didn't even make much of a dent in his bank account. Still, the place was a palace compared to every other house he'd ever lived in.

He insisted that Miles decorate one of the bedrooms to suit himself. "Until you decide where you want to go or what you want to do, you stay here," James instructed.

"Maybe I'll just pick up a house down the road," his friend quipped. "Then we'll all be official residents in the insane asylum."

"Sounds good to me. Meanwhile, this place has a really nice outdoor kitchen. I'm going to grill us up some burgers this afternoon," James stated.

He walked down to Kate's to see if she wanted to come over with Claire and Aaron, but her car wasn't in the drive. He turned to walk back home, but a voice called out to him.

"Uncle James!"

The little girl from his last visit ran out the front door. "Auntie Kate went to take Aaron to his grandmother's," she explained. "My mom and I came over to keep Claire company."

"Then I'll come talk to Claire," he replied.

"I'll take you to her," the girl offered and took his hand to lead him around the back of the house. Claire sat in one of the swings, staring blankly ahead.

"Sawyer!" Claire cried in surprise when he walked up.

"I thought your name was James," the girl stated suspiciously.

"Sawyer's a nickname. But everybody calls me by my real name now," he tried to explain.

"I'm sorry," Claire began apologizing.

"Don't be. Call me what you want. Miles still calls me boss all the time even though I told him not to," James admitted. "Hey, Claire, we're going to cook out this afternoon at my house. You want to come over?"

"Where do you live?" she asked, a look of fear coming over her face. "I don't want to go far from Aaron. He'll forget me again."

"No, no. He won't forget you. I just live two houses down," he explained.

The little girl danced in excitement, flashing him a sunny smile framed out by set of deep dimples. "That's next to me! Did you buy the house with the swimming pool?"

"Sure did, Girlie. You and Aaron can come swim sometime if your parents don't mind."

"It's just my mom, remember? No dads," she responded lightly. "Can we come today?"

"Let me get with Kate first and see if Aaron's going to be home," he stalled nervously. He'd never met this girl's mother. He didn't want her thinking he was a pedophile or something.

"Aaron went to my mum's for the evening," Claire interjected, then her eyes turned dreamy. "I still can't believe my mum is here. And she's okay. When I left she was still in hospital." To his dismay, she began to tear up. "If I hadn't left, I would have been home with her all this time. We could have raised Aaron together. But I left him. Sawyer, why did I leave him?"

The girl gave Claire a long hard look, then her face softened. "You didn't mean to leave," the girl assured her and even reached over to pat her arm. "Sometimes mommies and daddies leave even though they don't mean to. My daddy left before I was born but he didn't mean to. Mama said he had to leave and couldn't come back for a long time."

Her maturity floored him. She sounded sixteen instead of six. "Yeah, what she said, Claire," he stammered. "Aaron's going to get through this okay and so will you. You didn't mean to leave him. It was that other guy's fault, not yours. But right now, you've got to get stronger so you can be a mom to Aaron, okay? So come with me. You come eat dinner with me and Miles. It'll get better, I promise."

The back door opened and Kate stepped out. "Sawyer asked me to come eat dinner with him and Miles," Claire said as she wiped away the tears from her cheeks.

"That's a good idea, Claire, a really good idea." James could almost feel Kate's relief in the air.

"Yeah, and you're invited too unless you've got something else you need to do," James offered. He thought maybe she could use some time on her own.

"I do actually have some things I need to take care of. Why don't you all have a good time and I'll see you later tonight. Maybe at eleven?" Kate sounded so happy to be free for a while.

"Sure thing. I'll bring her home at eleven," James answered.

"Chick, your mom is ready to go," Kate told the girl.

"Bye, Claire. Bye, Uncle James. I'll see you later. I want to come swimming so call my mom, okay?" she tossed over her shoulder as she ran.

"Sure thing, Girlie," he called back to her with a laugh.

Kate smiled at him like she had some kind of big secret.

"You'll have to bring her and Aaron to swim soon. And be sure that girl's mom knows I'm not a childnapper," James said.

"Tell her yourself," Kate replied, pointing toward the woman coming out the back door.

The sun blinded him a little as she walked up so he couldn't make out her face, but as she got closer, her features resolved into a brunette with a serious expression.

Cassidy.


	32. Chapter 32 - Merry Go Round Broke Down

Chapter 32 – Merry Go Round Broke Down

Cassidy.

Shock ran through his system so hard his knees nearly buckled.

"Well, Sawyer, I see you've met your daughter," she stated tartly. "What do you think?"

Dear God. That little girl was his daughter. That was Clementine. "Does she know?" he demanded harshly.

"That you're the man who abandoned her? No."

"Abandoned her? I was in jail – where you put me – then I was shipwrecked on an island for three years, Cassidy. It's not like I could just hop a bus back home," he snapped.

"But you were out of jail and in the States a full year after she was born. You had plenty of time to make your presence known. To at least write her that letter so she'd have something of you besides a name before you disappeared again," Cassidy replied, her voice breaking.

James stood there, stunned. Had she actually been worried about him? After everything he'd done to her? "Cass, let's not do this right now. Not like this," he said softly. "I've done a lot of things in my life that I ain't proud of, but the thing I'm least proud of is the way I did you. And her. Especially her. I spent a lot of time on that island thinking about her and that I didn't want her to grow up thinking I'd didn't care about her. So let's not do this right now, okay?"

Cassidy nodded, but wouldn't meet his eyes. "You can tell her if you want. She already likes you," she offered and to his relief she only sounded a little bit disgusted.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"You look beautiful to me," he told her for the third time. "Just beautiful." _

_"You're still a con man, James Ford. Don't think I don't know that."_

_"I have never once tried to con you, so don't throw that back at me." _

_"I know you haven't," she sighed. "Are you sure I look okay?" _

_"You're gorgeous. Trust me, I know gorgeous." _

_"Were you this nervous?" _

_"What? When I got married? Nope. I was more than ready to go for it," he teased. _

_"And you guys are happy together? Really happy?" _

_"We've been married for almost twenty years. Yeah, I'd say we've done pretty good." _

_"You still love each other?" _

_He paused for a moment and wondered if he should tell her the truth, the whole truth. Then he realized that he did love his wife. He wouldn't have married her if he didn't love her. "Girlie, love isn't all about feelings," he began. "Feelings come and go. Sometimes you feel it more than others. But love is about what you choose to do. It's what you choose to be for each other. We made a choice twenty years ago to have each other's -" _

_He had to stop. Those words meant something special to him, something he hadn't thought about in a long time. _

_He took a breath and continued, "We made the choice to have each other's best interest at heart and to always play on the same team – our team, our family's team. It hasn't always been easy, but I know I can count on her and she can count on me. And we do love each other, very much. Do you feel that way about Aidan?" _

_"Yes, I do." _

_"Then go say 'I do' down there." He pointed down the aisle where the bridesmaids took their places, where a tall young man waited nervously for his bride next to a line of bored-looking groomsmen. _

_The blond one looked especially uncomfortable. "Your brother looks like he's in a police lineup," he commented. He could tell Aaron wanted nothing more than to run his finger under the collar of that dress shirt. "Why do you women always insist on tuxedos?"_

_Clementine turned to look up at him, flashing him that million dollar smile that looked so much like his own, only better. "Because you men look so handsome in a tux," she replied and stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. _

_Then the music began and everyone in the church rose to their feet. He quickly wiped his eyes and held out his arm to walk his daughter down the aisle. _

_-0-_

He waited outside alone for a long moment. That grown-up sounding little girl was his daughter. The one who didn't have a daddy was his daughter.

Shit. Did he want to tell her? Would she just get mad at him? Would she hate him for leaving her?

He remembered that smile. How had he not recognized that smile? Or those eyes. But her nose was her mom's and her hair was the exact same color as Cassidy's. It freaked him out a little that after meeting her just a couple of times he could visualize her face so clearly.

He'd been talking to his daughter.

The back door opened and she stepped outside. "Mama said you want to talk to me. Is it about going swimming?"

"No. Not about swimming."

"About Claire?"

He looked at her. "What about Claire?" he asked.

"Claire cries a lot. Aaron is scared of her because of the island."

"What do you know about the island?"

"Mama and Auntie Kate talked a lot about it before Auntie Kate left to go back there. Then Claire came home with her and she's Aaron's real mom. I know that much about it."

"Did they tell you I was there too?" he asked, impressed by her information-gathering skills. She seemed more like his kid with every passing second.

"Not really. But somebody my mom knew was there. They talked a little about that, but real quiet. I couldn't ever hear much about him."

"I think they were talking about me," he admitted quietly. She leaned in to hear more. "I was on the island too."

"With Claire and Uncle Miles?"

"When did Miles get to be Uncle Miles?" James had to ask. She shrugged. "Yeah, I was with Uncle Miles and some more folks most of the time. I didn't get to see Claire though. She was in another place."

"That's a big island," Clementine commented.

"Like you wouldn't believe," he replied with a sigh. "Anyway I was stuck there for a long time, for three years. And before that I was in a really bad place."

"Jail?"

He considered lying to her, then decided to come clean. "Yeah, I was in jail. I took something that didn't belong to me and that was wrong. So I had to go to jail."

"Do you still take things?"

"No," he answered firmly. She had to believe that. He wasn't a saint by any means but he absolutely wasn't the same man he'd been three years ago. "I don't do anything like that anymore. I learned better."

"So you got a time out," she explained. "When I do something bad, I get a time out so I can think about it and know how not to do something bad next time."

He found himself nodding in agreement. "You're right. I needed a time out and I got one. And I had somebody really good on my side to teach me how to do the right thing next time."

"Uncle Miles?"

He had to laugh. "Nope. Uncle Miles was in time out too. We had a good teacher named Juliet."

"Is she still on the island?" Clementine asked curiously.

"Uhh," he stammered. "Not really. But we need to talk about something else. See, before I went to the island I knew your mom. We were friends." Clementine looked at him expectantly so he just took the plunge. "What do you know about your daddy?"

"I know he had to leave before I was born," she answered. "Were you friends with him too?"

The innocence of her question tore right through him. His chest tightened up and burned like he'd been drinking acid. Finally, he cleared his throat and answered her.

"Honey, I'm your daddy."

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_"Hey, Cassidy!" he called across the precinct. "You got any leads on that couple working the retirement village?" _

_"Nope. Not a one," she shook her head and headed over to chat. "You and Miles still going to pull that sting this afternoon? You got enough backup?" she asked as she dropped an empty Styrofoam coffee cup in his trashcan. _

_"Yeah, we're good. No need for you to get roped into this one. Things could get a little dicey. I'm hoping maybe this jabroni knows something that'll help you - provided we can get his wife to lead us to him," Jim replied. _

_"Come on, let me come along. I haven't seen any real action in months," she sighed as she sat down in his extra chair. _

_"Yeah, for good reason." He reached over to pat her very pregnant belly with a grin. "Like Scott would want his wife and baby daughter in the middle of a shootout. You better stay on the quiet side of the action for a while." _

_"Oh, Clementine's tough. She kicks the crap out of me daily. Dr. Shepherd says she's a gymnast in the making," Cassidy laughed. "When are you going to settle down and find someone for yourself, Jim? All those good looks shouldn't go to waste in late night surveillance with Miles Chang." _

_"I'll have you know Miles has got me set up for a blind date tonight. Provided the sting goes okay. Some scientist chick," Jim laughed. _

_"You need to meet my doctor. She's beautiful and single and just the kind of woman who could set you straight and teach you a thing or two," Cassidy declared then pushed herself to her feet. "If it doesn't work out with Miles's setup, let me know. I'll see if I can't fix you guys up." _

_"If you promise to lay low and be careful until this baby gets here, I'll do it," he promised. _

_"Deal." _

_-0-_

To his horror, Clementine jumped up and ran from him screaming, "Mama!" at the top of her voice. The back door burst open and Cassidy and Kate ran out of the house. "He came back for me!" Clementine yelled. "My daddy came back for me!"

Then she ran across the yard as fast as her little legs could carry her and threw herself around his neck, tears pouring down her face. "You came back for me, Daddy! You came back!" she sobbed over and over.

"Of course I did, baby girl," he replied as he held her close and stroked her hair. He somehow felt simultaneously elated and horrified by her response. She had no idea who he was. How could she love him so much? How could she be so thrilled to see him?

At last she let him go but only after about a thousand repeated promises that he wasn't going anywhere, that she could come over any time she wanted to, and that he would always live next door. At last Cassidy managed to get her out the door and back home, but with a warning look over her shoulder that said if he ever did anything to hurt her little girl, she would kill him.

He understood.

At last he and Kate stood alone in the foyer of her house while Claire went upstairs for her purse. "You knew, didn't you? The whole time you were telling me about that house, you knew Cassidy lived next door to it," he tried not to snarl at her considering the way Clementine had responded to him, but he couldn't help but feel set up.

"Yeah, I knew," Kate admitted sheepishly, then she turned on her tough girl routine. "But I also knew that everybody I care about lives on this street now. Cassidy has been my friend for a long time. I've known her longer than I've known you. She helped me out of a tight spot once. When I found out that her daughter was also your daughter, it just made me love Clementine more. I've done my best to look out for her, just like you asked me to. Even when it meant hiding things from Jack."

"I never told you to hide anything from Jack," he interrupted. He absolutely did not want their breakup to somehow be his fault.

"I know. But I also knew you wouldn't want him to be in your business. Anyway, now I have everybody right here on the same block. Even Claire's mother lives around the corner. After everything we've been through, I think the one thing we need is to all stick together," Kate finished with her hand on his arm.

"Live together, die alone, huh?" he couldn't help but ask. He wondered just how it had all ended for Jack and the thought made him sadder than he expected so he shook the thought away. "You go have a good evening. I'll take care of Claire."

Back at the house, he found Miles in the kitchen slicing onions and tomatoes for the burgers. "Took you long enough. Got our dinner guest with you?" his friend asked.

"Yeah. I had some other stuff to tend to while I was there." He helped Miles get the food together and they set up outside by the pool. It really was a beautiful yard. Kate had at least pointed him toward a great house.

As they cooked, he wondered how to broach the subject with Miles. How could he begin to tell the story that ends with "this is my daughter"?

Claire sat quietly for a while, then began to apologize to him about leaving Aaron with him in the jungle. That line of discussion quickly went from bad to worse as she alternately sobbed and raged at him. When they eventually managed to eat, the burgers were almost cold.

"These are still good," Miles exclaimed around a mouthful of meat.

"Yeah, they are," Claire admitted with a smile.

"We'll do it again sometime," James agreed.

Finally, they all sat around the TV in the living room. "This is the biggest television I have ever seen in my entire life," Claire laughed.

"Just wait until Monday night football is on," Miles promised, rubbing his hands together with glee. "We'll watch it in 3D."

James laughed and shook his head, but secretly he had to agree. He couldn't wait for the Talladega 500. "What about you? Watch any sports?" he asked Claire.

"Not really. Not in a long time."

"Us either."

"I wish I had been able to go back with you guys at least. But everybody disappeared. When I went back to the beach there was nobody there at all," Claire sighed. "I was completely alone except for him."

James reached out to her and she sat beside him on the couch. "You aren't alone anymore. I'm going to be right here, just down the road. Come over any time you want to," he offered. She settled in beneath his arm and after a while, he realized that she'd fallen asleep. He pulled a pillow onto his lap and settled her onto it more comfortably, his hand on her shoulder.

A little after eleven, the doorbell rang. Miles let Kate in and Claire sat up, bleary eyed. "Is Aaron with you?" Claire asked.

"He's spending the night with your mom," Kate answered. "We'll go home and both get a really good night's sleep."

"Okay," Claire replied, but she looked back at James. "Is that okay? Should I go with her?"

"Yeah, it'll be okay. We'll see you guys in the morning," James promised. "And the kids want to come swim tomorrow."

Kate led her out the door and breathed a 'thank you' in his direction over her shoulder.

-0-

That night he dreamed he was back on the island. He lay in his bed listening to the sound of the night birds calling. The little window air conditioner did its best to keep the humidity at bay but the sheets still felt a little sticky against his skin.

He had a busy day planned for the morning. Dr. Chang expected a new shipment of construction materials on the next sub, a vehicle never meant for much cargo. From the minute the sub docked until the last supplies lay in the sheds at the Orchid, his men couldn't let so much as a nail wander away.

Juliet lay next to him in the darkness, her eyes closed in sleep. She had a busy day planned as well. Bus 3 hadn't been shifting smoothly and two of the Jeeps were due an oil change. Plus, Jin and Miles were coming over for dinner that night. It was game night – more Risk if he knew Miles. That guy was obsessed with conquering the world.

Juliet rolled over beside him in her sleep and he remembered he had something to tell her.

"Hey, Blondie," he whispered into her ear. "Wake up. I need to talk to you."

"Mmm," she murmured, but her eyes never opened.

"I met my daughter today. Clementine. I bought the house next door to her and Cassidy," he said, taking her into his arms.

She rolled closer to him, so close he could smell her hair, so close he could feel the warmth of her skin against him through her sleep shirt.

"I don't know what to do, Juliet," he admitted quietly. "She cried when she found out I was her daddy. She was so glad I'd come back for her. But I didn't. I wasn't looking for her or anything. I don't know how I feel. I don't know how to be a father."

Juliet murmured something but he couldn't make it out. "What did you say, baby?" he asked. But she lay quiet in his arms. So quiet. He began to panic.

He needed her. He needed her to wake up and be with him. "Wake up, Blondie! Tell me. I need to know what you said. I need you to tell me what to do. Please talk to me. Please wake up," he begged.

But he was the one who woke.

He sat straight up in the darkness of his room in his new house, alone in his huge bed. The sheets beside him were cold and empty.

A desperate loneliness suddenly broke him. "Please," he begged helplessly into the night. "Please, Juliet, please come back."

But she wasn't coming back. He put his face into his pillow and sobbed like a brokenhearted child until he ran out of tears to cry.

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_He deserved it. He deserved to have his "sad sunflower" tossed back at him and the door slammed in his face. Why was he like that? Why couldn't he just tell her the truth? Why couldn't he tell Miles the truth? _

_Cassidy tried to fix him up with nice girls. Miles tried to fix him up with nice girls. He regularly found very bad girls to screw on his own. But he was 35 years old and had never been in love. All he knew was that he was desperately lonely, like he'd always been alone. _

_He sat on his sofa in his cheap-ass apartment and watched _Little House_. Somehow it reminded him of better days. He'd watched that show with his uncle in that little trailer in Knoxville, just the two of them. Sometimes his awful cousin Mike came for weekend visitation, but it was mostly the two of them hunting, fishing, cutting wood, and watching TV. _

_Uncle Doug had been like his dad after his parents died. He'd seen him through high school and half-way through college before cancer finally took him. He wished Doug had been able to see him graduate, to see him join the force. Doug was really all the family he had and losing him had left a huge hole. _

_He watched Pa Ingalls tell Laura that the people we love are never really gone, but Doug felt gone. _

_Worse, it felt like somebody else he loved was gone and not just his parents. He felt like a part of him was missing. Vanished into the darkness forever. Sometimes he felt like half a person, going through the motions of life but without any real purpose. _

_He couldn't open up to Miles and tell him why he was looking for Anthony Cooper. He couldn't tell Charlotte about his parents. He couldn't come clean because he was ashamed. After all these years of police work, of upholding the law, the only purpose he had in his life was to try to break it, to commit murder. _

_Ultimately, his life was a lie and he was a liar. _

_And he was so very alone. _

_-0-_

"Miles," James called as he knocked at Miles's bedroom door, aware that the clock down the hall was striking three. "Miles!"

When his roommate didn't answer, he just opened the door and went in. Miles lay spread across the huge bed like he'd washed up dead on the beach. His balcony door stood open, letting in the cool night air.

"Wake up." James shook him on the shoulder until he rolled over and opened his eyes.

"What?" Miles snapped at first, but as he stared up at James, he frowned and added more gently, "Something wrong?"

"We gotta talk," James stated and headed back out the door.

Behind him, Miles rolled out of bed and threw on a robe. "Finally," he griped. "After three years on that damned island, you finally want to talk. Great."

Downstairs in the kitchen, James pulled out a bottle of whiskey and poured them both a glass. He tossed his back, hoping the alcohol would dull the ache in his throat from crying and disguise the hoarseness in his voice.

The way Miles looked at him let him know that it was obvious he'd been bawling like a hurt kid. However at this point he decided it didn't matter. He had to talk to somebody and Miles was his best friend, his only friend.

"I just found out that the little girl next door is my daughter," he stated flatly. "I don't know how to be a father. Damn it, Miles, I don't know how to be a person."

"Clementine. Clem's your kid?" Miles gave a whistle. "Did Kate know?"

"Yeah."

"So Kate set you up to buy this house knowing that your ex-baby mama and kid lived next door?" The disbelief in Miles's voice rapidly turned to anger. "Bitch! What the hell was she thinking?"

"She and Cassidy go way back. They've been friends for a while, even before she met me. I can't blame her for wanting us all close," James tried to defuse part of Miles's fury but at the same time was gratified that his friend jumped to his defense that way.

"Well, I'll be damned if I let her find me a freaking house. She'll have me living next door to Marietta Joulwan," Miles snapped back, then poured them both another glass of whiskey.

"Who's Marietta Joulwan?" James asked, glad to have something new to discuss.

"Oh my God. Marietta Joulwan nearly got me killed, arrested, and married all on the same night. It was a nightmare. I never want to see that one again," Miles shivered in horror at the thought but wouldn't elaborate further.

The two men sat at the bar in the kitchen in silence for a moment, each nursing their memories and their drinks. "You're not planning to move though, are you? I mean not right now," James heard himself ask anxiously. He didn't want Miles to leave. Not right away at least. And then he didn't want him to go far.

"Nope. I'm going to hang here with you for a while. I don't have any big plans at the moment," Miles responded nonchalantly, ignoring the clear distress James could hear in his own voice. Then he added, "Unless you want me to go."

"Nah, Enos. Stick around a while. I need a drinking buddy to get me through this whole baby-mama thing." James tried his best to play it cool as relief washed through him.

"You'll make a great dad. No worries about that. Clem's a neat kid. Does she know?"

James described how his little girl had sobbed with joy to find him. Somehow telling Miles gave him some space from the fear of disappointing her and instead he found excitement that she didn't hate him.

"The ladies love you, Jim. What is there to say?" Miles quipped back.

James shrugged and grinned at him. What else was there to say?

Miles laughed and took another drink. "So what's really bugging you?" He avoided James's eyes when he asked.

James thought he was all cried out, but his friend's question stirred his emotions to the surface again so that he had to take several deep breaths before he could answer. "I miss her. I miss her so bad and it's like she was never existed. All I have of her is memories." He stopped to breathe again and blinked back the tears. "And I needed to talk to her so bad tonight that I dreamed she was here. But I woke up by myself."

The tears that threatened finally broke free to roll quietly down his face. He took a drink and glanced across the table to see that Miles was wiping his eyes as well.

"I miss her too," Miles admitted. "And I never got to say goodbye to Jin either. It sucks. It's like everybody I cared about is gone. My mom and dad, my friends. You're the only one I've got left," Miles sighed. "It's good that you've got a chance with your daughter. You need to make the most of it, you know?"

James wiped his face. "Only if you promise to stick around and help out. She calls you Uncle Miles," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm going to teach her to play Risk and do cannonballs off the diving board," Miles declared. "We're going to all stick together. It'll be okay."

James declared his intention to go back to bed, but Miles replied, "I'm going to stay up a while. Some reruns of _Grey's Anatomy_ are supposed to come on at 4 a.m."

"I still don't know why you are so hooked on that show."

"I told you. I'm in love," Miles replied. "Miranda Bailey is the most incredible woman on television."

James laughed. "Miles, that woman is mean as a rattlesnake and she's just not . . . you know . . . hot. At all."

"To each his own," Miles replied sagely. "Dr. Bailey can boss me around anytime."

As James laughed and headed upstairs, he realized that he felt better. He still missed Juliet so badly that his body actually ached with the loss, but he knew that for the first time in his life, losing someone he loved didn't mean he was alone. He had real friends and real family who had his best interest at heart.

Somehow he'd be able to go on.

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_That fugitive airport girl, Kate Austen, peeped at him through her hair every time he passed her. He felt for her. He really did. Somehow he knew she hadn't done anything wrong, even though she'd been charged with murder. _

_But all the same, he wasn't about to stop and talk to her. _

_Cassidy noticed and asked him about it. "That girl got something on you, Jim?" _

_"Not a thing. I have no idea why she's so damned interested in me," he replied, pulling out another stack of paperwork. _

_"She does seem familiar though," Cassidy mused. "I'll run her record and see if I can find the connection. Maybe she's got some tie-in to an old case, a lead we ran down." _

_"Don't bother," Miles commented as he walked up. "I already have. I got nothing. But I agree that it seems like we ought to know her." _

_Just then, Cassidy squeaked and put her hand on her belly. _

_"You okay?" Jim asked. _

_"Hey, is she okay?" Austen called anxiously from across the room where Pritchard was processing some paperwork with her. _

_"Why do you give a shit?" Miles snapped back at her. "Keep your eyes on your own paper, Austen." _

_"Shut up, Miles. There's no need to be an asshole," Cassidy reprimanded. Then she called out to the prisoner. "I'm fine. The baby just tried to kick a hole in me." _

_"A friend of mine just had a close brush with premature labor. It scared the hell out of me," the woman explained. "I didn't mean to get into your business. I'm sorry." _

_Cassidy looked back at her. "It's okay." _

_"So is it a boy or a girl?" Austen asked. _

_"A girl. We're naming her Clementine." _

_"What a beautiful name. It means 'clemency.' 'Mercy'.' Grace'," Austen mused. Then she added shyly, "I'm a baby name book fanatic." _

_"I guess we can all use a little mercy," Cassidy replied in a kind voice. _

_"But we're still not letting you go," Jim added a bit gruffly. "You done yet, Pritchard?" _

_At Pritchard's nod he rose from his desk and took Austen by the arm and escorted her to lockup, not because he wanted to but because it was the right thing to do. _


	33. Chapter 33 Blessed Be the Tie

Chapter 33 – Blessed Be the Tie

James stood at the kitchen sink, rinsing what seemed like the thousandth kiddie cup of the day. It was only nine, but he was exhausted. Clementine and Aaron had spent the afternoon swimming and playing until Kate had finally taken a very whiny Aaron home. Now Clem lay upstairs in her room asleep.

He was still amazed that after only a few weeks, his daughter had her own room in his house – once again he had to thank Kate for pointing him toward a decent-sized place – and it was already filled with Barbie dolls and stuffed animals and clothes and markers and toys. Until that evening Clementine hadn't found the courage to stay overnight, but for some reason, at a little after eight she'd declared she was sleepy and had just gone to bed.

He'd expected Cassidy to make a fuss when he called to tell her Clem had sacked out, but she was out on a date with some guy named Scott and said she'd get her in the morning.

Fine. Cassidy was getting some with her new boyfriend. Fine. He and Cassidy were long over. He wasn't jealous of Scott.

But damn it, he was jealous of Cassidy. She got to move on, to date somebody, to make a new life. But anytime he thought of trying to move on, he'd dream about Juliet. He'd wake up in the night reaching for her and trying not to cry again.

All the same, he knew something had to change. He knew he had to move through his grief but he just didn't know how.

The phone rang and he dried his hands to answer it. "Can I come over? Please?" Claire began even before he said hello.

"Sure, come on," he replied but the line was already dead.

She must have run all the way because his door opened in a matter of seconds. Claire stood in the hall panting, her eyes darting around.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked.

She ran to him and threw her arms around him. "I am so glad you're here. I was so scared. I thought I saw him. I thought I saw him outside my window," she stammered fearfully.

"Where's Aaron?" James asked.

"He's at home with Kate."

"So why did you come here if Kate was there?"

Claire hung onto him for a long second then answered, "I feel safe here."

"Then this is where you ought to be," he assured her. He gave her another firm hug and led her into the kitchen. "I was trying to catch up on the dishes," he admitted. "Clementine and Aaron made a terrible mess this afternoon. I think they ate out of every dish in the house."

"I'll help you," she offered and began drying the plates he'd stacked in the rack by the sink. "Why don't you use the dishwasher?"

James shrugged. "I got used to doing them by hand in Dharmaville. It makes me feel closer to those days if I wash them myself."

"You miss being there, don't you?" she asked.

"I don't miss being there. I miss what I had there," he sighed.

"I know what you mean. When everybody disappeared, I moved back to the beach to my old shelter. I used to rock Aaron's cradle at night and pretend Charlie was still there with me. I found this under Aaron's blanket."

She pulled out a chain around her neck. Suspended from it hung a heavy man's ring with DS embossed on it. He remembered that ring. He had that inscription bruised into his arm for a few days after a run-in with Charlie over Claire's diary.

"I guess Charlie left it for me before he went into the Looking Glass," Claire stated sadly. "I didn't find it until after everyone was gone." Her voice began to break, and she tucked it into her shirt again.

She cleared her throat and added, "When this ring and that cradle were all I had left of them, I hung onto them so hard, too hard. But if I hadn't had Charlie's ring to remind me that he loved me and that he died trying to rescue me and Aaron, it would have been so much worse."

James's eyes misted over as he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a quick side-hug and a kiss on the head. "Thank you," he whispered.

"For what?" she asked.

"For understanding." He cleared his throat and went back to the dishes.

They worked side by side in silence for a few minutes. Then Claire looked up at him. "Can you tell me about her? I didn't really get to know her very well, but she helped me when I was sick. She seemed really nice," Claire ventured quietly.

He wondered for a moment if he could do it. Could he talk about Juliet to somebody other than Miles? He decided to try.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"She's still having so much trouble," Kate was telling Hugo. "Sometimes it's hallucinations of that man. Sometimes it's flashbacks that she's still on the island. Then she gets really angry with me for taking Aaron. James is the only one who can talk her down. And that didn't go too well last time." _

_"Dude. I'm sorry. That's rough for her and you guys too," Hurley leaned forward and rested his chin thoughtfully on his hands. "My mom was really good for Cindy and the kids before we sent them home. But I don't think she'd be good for Claire. I mean, Claire's own mom can't understand." _

_"She's been staying at my house full time for months now," James added. "Aaron comes over at least a while every day, but only if I'm here too. It's just not a good idea to leave them alone." _

_He paused for a moment and searched for the right words that would get him the answers he needed but without insulting Hugo. Finally he just blurted out what was on his mind."We were wondering if maybe you thought she needed professional help. I mean, you do have some experience with that. No offense." _

_Hurley laughed out loud at that. "Yeah, I do. But I think I've got something better than a shrink to offer. I've been talking with Jack and - some of the others and they have the idea that maybe the island can help her." _

_"You've been talking to Jack." Kate's voice was flat and emotionless with shock at this revelation._

_"And Charlie and Shannon and sometimes even Libby these days, just for a minute or two." Hugo looked equal parts delighted and grief-stricken when he mentioned Libby's name. _

_More than anything James wanted to ask him about Juliet. Did he talk to her too? Was she okay? Did she have anything she wanted to say to him? _

_But just as soon as he thought it, he knew the answer to that question. Juliet had told him what she wanted to say to him just before she let go of his hand at the drill site. She loved him. She wanted him to know how much she loved him. And he knew that already. He shook himself and forced his mind back to their current problem. _

_"Claire won't go back to the island. There's no way," James declared firmly. "And I won't let her go. I think it would set her back too much." _

_"I don't know that she's made much progress as it is, James," Kate contradicted him. "Maybe she should go back. Just to see if Hugo can help her." _

_But before he could begin to argue with her, Hugo stepped in. "I don't think she'll need to go back there. I brought some of the island with me." He reached into his backpack and pulled out some fruit and a bottle of water. "I kind of did some stuff to it, you know, protector-style stuff. Just give it to her. Maybe it will help." _

_As James took the fruit and water he realized that he knew that pack. It was Jack's old black backpack. "You found his pack." The words were out of James's mouth before he realized he planned to say them. _

_"Uh, yeah." _

_"May I?" Kate asked quietly. Hugo held it out to her and she took it in a trembling hand. "He took this thing everywhere," she remembered aloud. "It was like a part of him." She ran her fingertips over it gently with the same motion she used when she was trying to soothe Aaron to sleep. A big tear ran down her face. _

_"You can have it," Hugo offered. "He'll be glad it went home with you." _

_"Is he okay when you talk to him?" Kate asked, her voice thick with tears. _

_"Oh, yeah. Everybody's okay. I mean they're dead, but they're still okay. They say they're waiting. I see some people more than others. They always ask me about you guys and I tell them you're okay too," Hugo responded, patting Kate gently on the back but including James with a look. _

_She was okay. Somehow she was okay and waiting. He tried to hang onto that, to have it mean something to him but it didn't. He wasn't okay. He was frozen in place without her. He didn't have anything to work toward, to live for without her. _

_Then Hugo said, "We moved everyone to the beach graveyard – Sun, Jin, and Sayid." He looked directly at James and said, "We moved Juliet too. I hope that's okay. We thought she belonged with the rest of us." _

_James just nodded helplessly. _

_"Claire might not need to come back, but you guys could come. You could come visit the graves," Hugo offered. _

_James looked at the black backpack Kate clutched to her chest. Kate had a piece of Jack. He knew she still had some of his clothes in her closet – even though she tried to keep that quiet. But he didn't have anything of Juliet, just a letter that said she'd died pregnant with his baby. _

_"Yeah, Hugo. I want to go. I want to see where you put her," James declared. _

-0-

His cell phone rang at about midnight, waking him from a deep sleep. "Have you seen Claire?" Kate's terrified voice rang out in panic.

"Yeah, she's here. You didn't know?" he replied sleepily.

"No, I didn't know. I have been out of my mind with worry. I heard a noise downstairs and found the front door standing open just now. Anybody could have come into the house!" Kate began to get hysterical. "Sawyer, I can't do this! I know I went back for her, but I can't risk Aaron anymore!"

"I know, I know," James tried to calm her down. "Listen, let her stay with me for a while. Miles and I can handle her. That'll give you some time to help Aaron cope, okay?"

"Okay," she acquiesced, so easily it worried him. He couldn't help but wonder what else Kate wasn't telling him about Claire.

-0-

"Get away from me!" Claire screamed at him. "You left me! You left me alone in the jungle, Sawyer! You took Aaron and left me behind!"

"I know! I know I did! But I looked for you for three years, Claire! I looked for you all night that night! I never quit trying to find you, I swear. And I am not going to leave you now. You have to believe me," he tried his best to comfort her.

At last she subsided into sobs and let him put his arms around her. She'd lived with him for several months now and the days had blurred together into good days and bad days.

Maybe the episodes were getting less frequent, less severe. Maybe not. He tried to shelter Aaron from them as much as possible but sometimes that only set her off worse. Anytime the little boy left her sight James tried to stay close at hand to remind Claire that Aaron was still in the house or at Kate's, that he wasn't gone.

He also tried to shelter Miles. James figured Claire was his problem, not his roommate's. In the time she'd lived with them, he managed to keep Miles out of the way of the worst of her episodes.

Now as she sobbed against his shoulder he could feel the tension pour out of her. Soon she'd be fine again, wiping her eyes and apologizing.

"I'm okay," she whispered after several minutes. "I'm back."

"You want a drink of water?" he asked.

"Please."

He let her go and got a glass from the cabinet, then filled it half full of water from the cooler. "Thank you," she whispered and sat down on the barstool.

He heard the front door open and walked out into the hallway to see Miles coming in with several bags of groceries. "They didn't have any Quaker Snack Mix," he complained. "That is the hardest stuff to find."

"You'll survive," James teased as he took a couple of the heaviest looking bags from his friend's hands and walked back into the kitchen.

His first clue that Claire was hallucinating again was the impact of the heavy drinking glass against his forehead.

At first it didn't even hurt, the impact just dropped him to the floor, his back against the oven door. His vision flashed to white and the bags fell from his suddenly limp fingers. However the shock of the blow wore off in a couple of milliseconds and the pain kicked in, even as his eyesight wavered back into focus.

He blinked, but something began to interfere with his vision. He could hear Miles's voice talking to him as if it were coming from down the end of a long tunnel. "Jim! Jim! Man, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

He kept blinking and tried to string a few words together. "Just lemme sit here," he breathed or thought he did. He couldn't really think.

Sounds began to come into focus even as his vision continued to run red. He could hear water running. "What the hell were you thinking?" Miles yelled at someone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," a soft voice repeated in the background.

A wet cloth pressed against his forehead and gradually the red subsided enough for him to see Miles kneeling beside him. Claire stood a few feet away, her face white as ash, her hands clenched at her side into tight fists.

He could still hear the words "I'm sorry" repeating on an endless loop.

Miles spoke into his phone. "Get over here. Now," he snapped and stuck it back in his pocket. He peered into James's face. "You okay, Jim?"

"I'm okay," he replied as firmly as he could, but his voice wouldn't come out like he wanted. Everything seemed to echo and waver.

Miles pulled back the towel, but the blood began to flow into his eyes again, so he pressed it back onto his forehead. The sharp pain he first felt ballooned into a mind-numbing ache.

"I thought he was someone else. I didn't mean to," Claire cried miserably. "Jim, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to."

The front door opened with a bang and Kate ran into the room. He could hear her gasp. "Oh my God, what happened?" she asked as she knelt on his other side.

"Crazy happened. That's what happened," Miles snapped. "I think he's still a little out of it. That lunatic threw a glass at his head. For no reason."

Claire began to sob in the background but he couldn't see her past Kate.

He closed his eyes for just a second to try to ease the pain. "No!" Miles yelled at him. "Don't go to sleep! Stay with me, Jim."

He forced his eyes back open and blinked a few times. Kate leaned back to reach for another towel and he could see Claire standing there. Her blonde hair had grown out a lot from the short cut she'd gotten when they first came back home. The sun at the window made it glow, a little like an angel's halo. Her eyes were so wide, so blue. Just like Aaron's.

Then he saw the knife in her hand. "I'm so sorry," she breathed as she raised the knife to her wrist.

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_Jim boarded the plane, a hard knot in his stomach. He couldn't believe he'd come so close to murdering an innocent man. What kind of person was he? What kind of cop was he? _

_He frowned as he headed down the aisle, his ticket in hand. Up ahead he spotted a young blonde woman struggling to get out of her seat. As he got closer he realized she was extremely pregnant. Quickly he counted the rows from the emergency exit to her seat then past her to his seat. If something happened, he would make sure she got off the plane okay. _

_As he reached her row, she fumbled to reach the overhead compartment. "What do you need, ma'am? I'll get it for you," he offered, dropping his own carry-on to the floor. _

_"Just my book from my bag," she answered in the most adorable accent. She pointed to the bag in question and he pulled it down and held it open until she fished out her book, _What to Expect When You're Expecting.

_"A little light reading, huh?" he teased. _

_"Yeah," she nodded with a smile. He replaced the bag in the overhead compartment and closed it again. _

_"If you need anything else, just holler. I'm only a couple rows back," he offered. Once she'd eased herself into her seat again, he picked up his duffle bag and headed to his own spot. _

_He wondered how pregnant she was. The airlines usually had a no fly rule after the eight month mark, but she sure seemed to be ready to pop. Maybe she only looked that way because she was so tiny. _

_He was glad he'd actually paid attention during the department's last emergency childbirth training. He'd been preparing for the possibility of Cassidy going into premature labor - a thought which filled him with terror for some reason - but considered that the training could come in handy today. He hoped not. _

_The flight was long and boring, giving him plenty of time to think back over everything that had happened in Sydney. No, Frank Duckett hadn't also been Anthony Cooper, but that didn't stop him from still wanting to find the real Cooper. Maybe actually having the gun in his hand had slowed him down a little. Maybe he wouldn't actually be able to pull the trigger on the real Anthony Cooper either, but God, he knew he wanted to. _

_When the plane finally landed, he looked for the blonde girl to see if she needed any help, but a line of disembarking passengers got between them and he lost her in the crowd. He hoped she'd be okay. _

_-0-_

"Claire, don't," he tried to yell but the words came out as just over a whisper, and he could only watch as she sliced at her wrist. Kate leaped at her just as she began the motion, knocking the knife sideways so that the blade sliced across her hand instead.

Somehow Kate managed to disarm her and Claire dissolved into hysterical tears, blood pouring off her fingertips as she curled up on the floor across from him. He struggled to his feet and went to her, Miles yelling at him to be still.

"She's my responsibility," he told his angry friend, glad his head was beginning to clear a little, even though it still hurt like a son of a bitch.

Somehow, they all climbed into Kate's car and headed to the emergency room. James concocted a cover story on the way and demanded that they all adhere to it.

"We need to just tell them the truth and get Claire the help she needs," Miles tried to argue.

"Like anybody outside of us would understand," James snapped back. "They'd lock her away at the first mention of a smoke monster on a mysterious island. Stick with the story."

Miles grumbled under his breath, but James hurt too bad to keep arguing.

Several stitches later, both of them were released to go home. "Claire can come say with me," Kate offered quietly on the way back out to the car, but James shook his head – or tried to but the headache prevented any unnecessary motion.

"Nope. She stays at home with me. She doesn't need to be anywhere near Aaron until we know she's going to be okay," he instructed.

"Then I'll send Aaron over to Cassidy's to visit and come help you," she said. "I think Miles will appreciate some backup."

He'd noticed Miles and Kate having a heated conversation in the hallway while the staff was stitching him up. He could only imagine what was being said, so he agreed.

Somehow the groceries got put away, dinner got made and eaten, and everybody got settled into bed early. "No _Grey's Anatomy_ tonight?" he asked Miles with a weak smile.

"I just lived an episode. I don't need to watch one," Miles popped back at him, then his tone softened. "You sure you don't need anything else?"

"I'm good. Go on to bed. Kate's going to stay in Claire's room," James replied.

"And I locked up all the sharp objects," Miles responded. James looked at him to see if he was kidding and decided he wasn't.

Up in his room, he checked his forehead in the bathroom mirror as he got ready for bed. The bandage wasn't huge but it was bulky and his head still ached, despite the meds. His eyes had already begun to swell and discolor. He piled up as many pillows as he could lay his hands on to elevate his head and lay down. Somehow, despite the nagging pain, he managed to sleep.

-0-

He dreamed.

Juliet lay beside him, her head on his shoulder. "I worry about you," she whispered. "I worry that you are going to get hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt," he replied.

She reached out to touch his forehead with a gentle finger. "You already have, James," she stated in that no-nonsense way he loved so much.

"I miss you," he sighed as he drifted off to sleep in his dream.

"I know. Sleep."

-0-

He woke the next morning to the clear and unmistakable sensation of someone lying in the bed beside him. He could feel her hair on his shoulder and her arm across his chest. At first he knew he had to be dreaming. He also knew that the minute he opened his eyes and reached for her, she'd vanish and the sheets would be cold and empty without her.

But he felt awake. He tried to open his eyes but they were tight and swollen. He peered through narrow slits, elated to catch a glimpse of blonde hair.

Maybe he was dead. Maybe he died in his sleep and was back in her arms again.

_Oh God, please let me be dead_, he prayed. But even as the thought ran through his mind, he realized it wasn't Juliet.

He forced his eyes open a fraction more until he could see her clearly. Claire. What was Claire doing in his bed?

He ran his hand over her shoulder. "Hey," he whispered. "What's wrong?"

She stirred a little and raised one hand to her hair, one heavily bandaged hand. She groaned a little and sat up away from him. The minute she looked at his face, she gasped and began to cry.

"Oh my God, Jim," she moaned. "I am so sorry. I swear I am so sorry." She reached up and brushed back some of the hair that fell across his forehead.

"I must look awful." He tried to laugh but it made his head hurt so he just smiled at her instead. "I'm sure it looks worse than it is."

She sat there, her lip trembling and her eyes full of tears. "I did that to you. After everything you've done for me, I did that to you."

"I'm okay," he tried to assure her but she took his hand in both of hers and shook her head.

"No. You're not okay. And neither am I," she stated with sad resignation. "I'm broken. I'm broken and I can't be fixed. No matter what you do or what Kate does, I'm not going to be okay. He's still here in my head. I still see him. Sometimes I wonder if I ever really left the island at all."

"Maybe -" she began, a note of desperation in her voice "- maybe the dream is this life here with you and Aaron. Maybe I'll wake up and be back on the beach rocking an empty cradle all alone."

He sat up fully, ignoring the pain in his skull and took her hands. "You're not alone, Claire. This isn't a dream. This is real. I'm here and I'm not going to leave you. I promise you that." He tried to look her in the face but his eyes began to water and blur.

"Why? Why are you doing this?" she wailed desperately. "Just let me go, Jim. Let me end this for everybody."

He reached out to cup her cheek in his hand, to make her meet his eyes so she'd listen to him. "I've done a lot of stuff I ain't proud of, Claire," he began. "I've killed people. I've stolen things. I've lied and I've cheated. But three years ago I got a chance to do things right for once. I got a chance to be something I never thought I'd be. Now I can pay that back by doing the right thing here and now."

He tried to keep his voice from breaking, tried to stay strong, but the burden was too heavy and his breath turned ragged. "I can take care of you and Clementine. I left her behind to take that flight. I left you back on the island. But I'm not going to leave you again, either of you. I'm going to take care of you, Claire. Whatever it takes, I'm going to take care of you."

-0-

After Hurley left, James took the fruit and the water and made a snack for Claire. His hands shook as he cut up the mango and he got juice all over himself, so before he took the plate outside to her, he went to the bathroom to wash his hands.

He glanced in the mirror and was met with a sight straight out of a horror movie. The stitches stood out garish and black but he couldn't stand the bandage anymore and had taken it off. The swelling had gone down a good bit, but unfortunately a few new shades of hurt had added themselves to the Technicolor mix of bruising around his eyes, namely green and yellow.

He stepped into the hallway and nearly ran into Miles. "Does it feel as bad as it looks?" Miles asked. "Because if it does, I'm getting you a couple of aspirin. Right now."

"No, it actually doesn't hurt too bad at all," James lied.

"So that's the magic fruit?" Miles asked as James picked up the plate.

"We'll see. But Claire doesn't know anything about that and we're going to keep it that way," James instructed.

"It'll look mighty funny if she's the only one eating," Miles remarked.

"Then eat some fruit." The look of horror on Miles's face drew a belly-laugh from James, his first real deep, genuine, heartfelt laugh since the Seventies.

"The last thing I want is a piece of that Godforsaken rock inside me," Miles snapped back. "Give me a second."

Within a few minutes, Miles had rustled up a bowl full of cornchips and some bean dip.

"She hates cornchips." James said. Then he raised an eyebrow, a painful eyebrow, in appreciation of Miles's deviousness as he concluded, "So she'll have to eat fruit. Nice one, Enos."

The two of them put on their best airs of nonchalance as they plopped down around the outdoor dining table. "Got us some snacks," James declared.

"Yuck, cornchips," Claire moaned.

"Yeah, but they had some really nice organic mangoes on sale," Miles quipped as he shoveled a load of dip onto a chip and tossed it into his mouth.

"I never want to see another mango again," Claire stated. "I can't believe you two can even look at them."

James forced himself to pick up a slice, fully aware of what she was saying. "I don't know about that," he crooned seductively. "These looked really ripe and they're cold. We never used to have them cold."

He took a bite and felt the soft flesh of the fruit explode in his mouth. Suddenly he was back there on the beach in his mind. He could hear the ocean and feel the wind blow across him. But instead of sadness it brought him peace, as if he had connected with something very important to him. "Try a bite," he whispered to her.

"I don't know," she wavered.

"For me, Claire. Try a bite for me." He picked up a piece of fruit in his fingers and held it to her lips. Hesitantly, she took a bite and he watched as the fruit worked on her spirit.

Suddenly she seemed years younger, fresher, less exhausted by life. Her eyes opened wide, startling in their blueness and sudden innocence. He passed her the bottle of water and their fingertips met. A feeling of connection, of belonging, ran through him, as if they were both part of something bigger than themselves.

His eyes never left hers as she took a drink of the water, hesitantly at first, but soon she closed her eyes and drank deeply as if she'd been living in a desert until that moment.

Miles looked back and forth between the two of them and finally picked up his own piece of mango and took a tentative bite. Out of the corner of his eye, James saw him blink several times in typically overwhelmed Miles fashion.

"You okay?" he finally asked Claire as she put down the now empty bottle and sighed deeply.

"I'm good." She sat there a long moment, then stretched her arms overhead and looked up at the sky like she'd never seen it before. Then she smiled at him a real smile, the first he'd seen from her since they returned. She looked like the old Claire again, the sweet girl who'd collected wallets from the dead passengers to have a memorial, the loving mother who'd put her baby before everything else. Then she repeated her words. "I'm good."

"I think I'm good too," Miles added in impressed tones.

"Maybe we're all good now," James concluded. They sat there a long time, not talking, just being good.

At last the sky grew dark and they rose to clear the table. In the kitchen Miles took a storage bowl out of the cabinet. "Anybody want any more?" he asked them.

James shook his head. He didn't need it, and he didn't think another bite would do any more for him than the first had. When Claire shook her head as well, Miles carefully put the leftover slices into the bowl and stuck them in the refrigerator. "For Kate," he explained.

"Yeah, for Kate," Claire seconded quietly. "She needs it too."

-0-

James lay in bed that night considering the afternoon when he heard a knock at his door. "Come in," he called.

Claire poked her head inside. "Am I bothering you?" she asked quietly. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"I'm not asleep," he answered and turned on his lamp. "Come on in."

She came over and gingerly sat on the end of the bed. "I just wanted to say thank you for everything," she explained. "It's been so hard for so long, almost a year since we got back. And I've put you through hell."

James raised a hand in denial, but she shook her head and continued, "Look at your face, Jim, and tell me I haven't put you through hell. But I think this afternoon made it a lot better. I feel different, like I got myself back. I just wanted to thank you."

Then she got up, pressed a quick kiss on his cheek, and walked back toward the door.

"Hurley invited us to come back to see the graveyard," he said. "Do you want to come?"

She stopped, one hand on the doorknob, and shook her head. "I don't think I can do that. But if you want to go, I'll be okay. I really feel like I'll be okay for the first time," she said with a smile full of sweet confidence. "Good night, Jim."

"Good night."

Once she'd gone, he turned off his lamp and rolled over in bed to face Juliet's side. "Hey, Blondie," he whispered into the emptiness. "I think maybe we're all going to be okay. I just wanted you to know."

As he drifted off to sleep he could almost swear he heard her whisper back, "I know."


	34. Chapter 34 Step Out of the Dark

Chapter 34 – Step out of the Dark, Step into the Light

"Seen Richard lately?" Lapidus asked as they stepped into the compact but seriously expensive-looking jet.

"No." "Yes." James and Kate answered simultaneously.

"Where did you see Richard?" James asked her. Old liner-eyes hadn't been around in months.

"Just around," Kate sidestepped the question. Only after James stared her down for several seconds did she break. "We've gone out to dinner a few times," she admitted. "But it's nothing. Just dinner with an old friend."

"You guys weren't friends," James contradicted her.

"We are now," Kate declared and gave him her own evil eye to stop his questioning.

"Anybody else coming?" Lapidus asked.

"Nope, just the two of us," James sighed. He couldn't blame Claire for not making the trip, but he really wished Miles had come along. Miles claimed Claire needed him to stick around, but she'd been doing so much better since Hurley's Protector Fruit Trick, as they'd all taken to calling it, that he didn't really believe his friend. More likely, Miles just couldn't stomach the thoughts of going back.

When he thought about setting foot there again, James's own stomach rolled and tightened with anxiety. But he had something important calling him back. He needed to see where they put her with his own eyes. He needed to touch her marker with his own fingers. He needed to know that everything was okay.

"We ready for takeoff?" a female voice asked. James looked up to the cockpit door to see someone he truly never expected to see again – Cindy.

"You flying Mystery Island Air these days?" he asked her.

She gave him a big smile. "Frank and I are doing the LA to island route."

"I never thought you'd be back in an airplane, much less heading back to the island," Kate wondered aloud.

Cindy flashed a smile at Lapidus, then laughed. "I love flying. So does Frank. And the island was my home for three years. It's part of me. We took Zach and Emma back for a visit only a few weeks ago."

"Their parents let you?" James couldn't hide his doubt.

"Their parents insisted. Apparently the kids were getting really antsy at home. Hugo suggested a trip for all of them. It helped a lot," she explained. James just shook his head in disbelief.

After a few preflight instructions, she headed back up front to the co-pilot's seat. James thought he caught the two of them squeezing hands just before takeoff. Weird. Just weird, he decided privately.

The flight was shorter than he expected, much shorter. He couldn't help but wonder what kind of strange physics were at work and thought about Dan for the first time in a long while. The scientist used to babble about time dilation and constants, but James always tuned him out. Juliet used to listen though. He wished she were with him to maybe offer some theories.

They landed on the runway on Hydra Island. From the moment the door opened, letting in a gush of warm jungle air, he began to experience what turned out to be a perpetual sense of déjà vu. Memories assaulted him.

He recalled the last time he ran down that runway, trying to stop the plane so that he, Kate, and Claire could leave. He remembered building that runway, pouring out Juliet's water, planting a big rebellious kiss on Kate. When they got to the beach dock, he remembered finding all those bodies along with Charles Widmore's stooge Zoe. He remembered stepping off that dock onto a doomed submarine. Jin never left that sub.

Finally, he blanked it all out and just concentrated on breathing the air, feeling the sunshine, and listening to the ever-present sounds of the jungle.

They rowed over to the main island in what appeared to be camping canoes. Hugo and Ben met them on the beach.

"Like Mr. Roarke and Tattoo," James muttered under his breath. He expected Hugo to bust out with "smiles, everyone, smiles" at any moment.

"Rose and Bernard invited us to dinner," Hugo said happily. "It's good to have you guys here."

"It's good to be here, Hugo," Kate replied with a big grin.

James just frowned. No, it wasn't. It sucked to be there. But he mustered up a half-grin for the big guy and followed the rest of the troop to the little cabin that Rose and Bernard had built.

The visit was okay, he decided. Ben's presence grated on his nerves, but he gave the little man a wide berth and put up with it. After dinner, Ben excused himself from the visit, citing things to do. Rose gave Ben a hug and Hugo let out a cheery "later, dude."

"The times, they are a'changing," James just murmured to himself, wondering how on earth he was managing to be so cool about the whole back-on-the-island thing.

"We need to head over to the beach tomorrow," Hugo declared. "It'll be too dark to see where we're going in just a few minutes."

Kate agreed and James shrugged. "We've got decent accommodations for you guys, I think," Hugo offered and led them a short distance from Rose and Bernard's place to a campsite with several canvas cabin-style tents erected on raised wooden decks. James opened the flap of the nearest and saw comfortable-looking cots, a washstand, even a few books, most of which he recognized as being part of his cobbled-together island library. He ran a finger over the spine of "Watership Down."

"I ditched the porn," Hugo admitted at the doorway. "It didn't seem like it belonged."

James nodded.

"So have a good night." Hugo turned to go, but stopped and added sincerely, "It's good to have you back here."

"Thanks," was all that James could manage.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_"Glad you could make it," Jim reached out for Hugo's hand and shook it firmly, then pulled his friend in for a quick hug. "Ben not with you?" he asked, looking around for Hugo's shadow. _

_"He decided to hang back and keep an eye on things," Hugo explained. "You know Rose and Bernard send their love but she's kind of stuck on the island, you know." _

_"I understand. She can't leave kind of like Claire can't go. Too much fallout," Jim agreed. _

_"Hey, Frank and Cindy made it!" Hugo smiled as he caught sight of the two of them in the front of the little chapel. _

_"We went to theirs, they had to come to ours," Jim stated firmly. _

_"So where's Miles?"_

_"In the back where I'm supposed to be. He keeps reminding me that it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding," Jim sighed. "I just stepped out to see if you'd gotten here yet." _

_"I wouldn't miss it for the world." Then he put a hand on Jim's arm. "I just want you to know that I'm really glad you two made it to this point. I know it was tough, but it's better to go on together and support each other than to try to keep making it alone." _

_Jim nodded. "Seeing Rose and Bernard together over the years made my mind up," he admitted. "They're so good for each other. I think we'll be good for each other too." _

_Hugo's eyes misted a little and he patted Jim's shoulder and sniffed a little. "I'll tell them you said so." _

_Music began to play at the front of the church and Jim realized he had to head back or risk being late for his own wedding. "Later, dude," Hugo whispered and shoved him in the right direction. _

_Which turned out to be the wrong direction because he ran straight into his bride and her maid of honor. _

_"What are you doing here?" Kate snapped at him. "You are supposed to be in the back with Miles!" _

_But before she could bean him with her bouquet, Claire intervened, "It's okay. As long as he isn't trying to run off." _

_"I am not trying to run off," he assured her. "You look beautiful." _

_"Thank you," both ladies responded in unison. _

_"Now get your butt back there," Kate instructed. _

_He turned to go but cast one more look back at his bride. "And quit peeking!" her maid of honor snapped. _

_-0-_

He woke on the island with the most profound sense of peace and belonging he'd ever felt. The air felt right. The sounds felt right. He lay there with his eyes closed and just breathed it all in.

After several long moments, he opened his eyes and got up. The fire from the night before had burned down to coals, but Bernard sat beside it, a coffee cup in his hand.

"Good morning," the man offered quietly. "I think we're the first up. You want a cup of coffee?"

James nodded and followed him back to the cabin where Bernard slipped inside and retrieved a steaming mug stamped with the Dharma Initiative logo. The sense of déjà vu returned full force when James realized he'd had one just like it back home in the Seventies.

James took a sip and nodded his approval, then they both went back to the fire.

"So, how are you doing?" Bernard asked after a moment of silence. "Really doing?"

James took a deep breath and considered how to answer. "Okay. Some days are harder than others," he stated. "Claire is better now, so that makes everything easier." He took another sip of coffee and felt his chest begin to tighten. But he plowed on, pushing aside the emotion. "There's just so much I need to tell Juliet. So many times I needed her beside me." He looked across the embers at the older man to see understanding and sympathy in his eyes.

"When the doctors told us that Rose had cancer," Bernard began, "the only thing that kept running through my mind was that I had it too. Because without her, I knew I wouldn't be able to go on. I was willing to do anything, pay anybody, fly anywhere - " he gestured at the jungle around them " – risk anything to find someone to help her." He glanced back at the cabin where his sleeping wife lay, then added, "I don't know why this place gave me Rose but took Juliet from you. I want you to know that I'm truly sorry about that."

James felt tears begin to prick his eyelids.

"Yeah, me too," he somehow replied and took another sip of his coffee.

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_Jim Ford raced into the hospital parking lot, his eyes on constant surveillance for anyone who matched or might even come close to matching Jarrah's description. The elevator doors of the parking garage opened unexpectedly just as he crossed in front of them, and his hand flew reflexively to the holster at his back. They opened to reveal a smiling older couple, a black woman and a silver-haired white man. She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss into his cheek. _

_"Oh, excuse us," the woman laughed as she caught sight of him. _

_Jim moved his hand away from his firearm and gave them a smile. "No problem here," he replied, then he noticed the man's white coat. He needed directions. "Would you happen to know what floor maternity is on?" he asked. _

_"It's on looking for your wife?" the guy replied genially. _

_"Nope, not married. Just looking for a friend," Jim replied. _

_"Do I know you?" the man asked, his eyes narrowing curiously. Jim had to admit they did seem familiar, both of them. _

_"Bernard," the woman began ominously. "He's busy. Let him go." _

_"I just have a feeling I know him," Bernard was saying as she led him away. The elevator doors closed just as he continued, "I think his wife is up there." _

_"Nope, not married," Jim repeated at the now-closed door. But all the way up he couldn't help but wonder. _

_-0-_

Later that morning Hugo led them around the rocky outcropping that separated the cemetery from the rest of the beach encampment. What they'd left as a hastily-dug, rudely marked collection of graves had been transformed into a truly beautiful place with a garden of flowers and real markers.

James walked past the graves he already knew. From Boone and Shannon all the way to the ones he'd dug himself for Nikki and Paolo. Interestingly enough, Locke and Jack lay side by side.

"Thought his body went over the cliff," James commented dryly.

"That wasn't Locke's body. That was the other guy masquerading. We found John's real body beside the statue. Well, Ben told me where to find it," Hugo explained. "John and Jack both complained about being next to one another, but they were kidding. I think."

Further down James found Jin and Sun, Sayid and Charlie. Last was Juliet. The grass still hadn't completely covered the spot there in the shade of a lush tropical tree that reminded him of a magnolia. He took a seat beside her and read the marker: "Juliet Carlson, Greatly loved, Greatly missed."

"She told me not to put Edmund Burke's name on it. She got a little scary about that," Hugo's voice came from just behind him. "The loved and missed part was mine."

"It's perfect," James whispered softly, running his fingers across the soft ground that lay over the woman he'd planned to marry. "Do you talk to her much?"

"Not too often. At first it was all the time, but these days they don't come around like they did. Shannon and Sayid have already gone and so have Sun and Jin. The others were kind of waiting around for you guys I think," Hugo explained, but none of it made sense to James.

"So they're leaving here?" he asked. "Why?"

"The best I can figure out, the island tied them to it when they died. Some of the spirits left when Jacob left. But the more recent ones, the ones that are more tied to me have hung around. But they say there's another place after this, a place where they're all going to wait until the rest of us get there. They say that once they get there, they can't come back and won't remember this place anymore," Hugo sighed.

"Do you miss them?" James asked.

"Yes and no. It was hard when Libby finally decided to leave. I get the feeling that as long as they stay here, they aren't alive and they really feel it. But there, it's like they are alive again," Hugo sniffed a little as he continued. "I miss her so bad, but I finally told her to go be alive and look for me."

James finally got the courage to ask the question he very much wanted to know. "Is Juliet still here?"

Hugo's eyes grew sad. "I don't know, dude. I haven't seen her in a while. The last time I saw her, she said she missed you and her sister and that if she could get to a place where she could find you again, she wanted to do that."

"But I'm not dead, Hugo," James tried to make sense of it all. "How can she find me there if I'm not dead?"

"I guess until she'll wait until you show up," Hugo replied. Then he gave James a sharp look, "But don't like do anything stupid. Don't off yourself or anything. I get the feeling that messes it up more than it fixes things."

"Nah, Chewie, I'm not going to do anything dumb," James assured him, but the thought had indeed crossed his mind.

-0-

_Flashforward_

_James stood outside the house in the Florida sunshine and tried to calm down. He had a mission, he kept reminding himself. She'd given him one last thing to do for her and by God he was going to do it. _

_He should have been here long before now, he knew that. He tried to come up with all the good reasons he could muster, reasons that involved helping Claire and finding Clementine. But the truth was Richard had given him the address the day they landed. _

_He hadn't come in all this time because he was afraid. _

_Now he felt guilty. _

_He patted his jacket pocket to make sure the envelope was still securely tucked inside and went to the door. _

_Within seconds of the first ring of the doorbell, the door swung wide to reveal a little boy, maybe a year or so younger than Clementine. His sandy blond hair and blue-green eyes looked awfully familiar. _

_"Julian, who is it?" a woman's voice called. He watched her walk down the hallway, part of him desperate to see the resemblance, the other part terrified of it. _

_"Rachel?" he asked and his voice shook. At her nod, he held out his hand. "My name's James Ford. I came to talk to you about your sister." He couldn't say her name out loud. It had caught in his throat and refused to budge past the ache he suddenly felt. _

_"Come in," she replied suspiciously. She sent the boy, Juliet's nephew he realized, outside to play and led him into the formal living area. _

_"Just what do you have to tell me about my sister?" she asked in a cool voice. _

_So he told her. _

-0-

He stood on the beach, his eyes still focused on the far distant horizon where he'd watched the little canoes paddle away, her long blonde hair shining in the sun like a star, until they suddenly winked out of sight.

Tears stained his cheeks, but his eyes were dry now. How long would it be? he wondered. How long could he go on without her, hurting this way, aching for her? He hated that man in the boat beside her. He hated him with all his heart because he was jealous. That version of himself sat only inches from her and had no idea just how important she was to him. That version of himself only thought about his own needs, his own hurt. He tried to get her in bed because he was lonely. He tried to keep her on the island because he was afraid to go it alone.

That selfish bastard kept her there for his own ends, never considering what was best for her. The man he'd been didn't know just what she meant to him until she slipped from his grasp, until the moment he failed her for the last time.

Hugo came over to check on him. The others had gone back to the campsite. "Dude? You need anything?" he asked softly.

"I need to tell her I'm sorry," he whispered. "I need to tell her how much I love her. I need her to know that since she left, I'm just one big aching hole without her."

Hugo looked around curiously, then put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "She knows, dude. She knows."

James looked up at his friend's smiling face. "Is she here?" he stammered. "Where?" His heart hammered in his chest.

"Yeah, she's right beside you."

All he could see was jungle and beach, so he closed his eyes and tried to feel her presence.

"She asked me to tell you something. She says she knows how badly you hurt and she doesn't want you to hurt anymore. She wants you to be happy. She says Clementine is beautiful," Hugo translated. "She's afraid that one of the reasons you still hurt so bad is because she's still here. So she's going to go on to the next place to wait for you."

"Can she see me back home? Can she come there?" James asked desperately. "Blondie, if you can come stay there, just do. Come move in. You don't have to go anywhere until I do."

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to see Hugo's very serious expression. "No, dude. She can't do that and you don't want it for her. She doesn't want it for you. It wouldn't bring peace to either of you. Dude, you have to let her go."

"I don't want to let her go," James replied with a sudden sob. "She's the only good thing I ever had."

-0-

_"So you and my sister knew each other on that island? For three years?" Rachel asked doubtfully. "Why should I believe you?" _

_"Because just before she died, she gave me this to give to you and told me she had a message for you," he answered and held out the envelope. _

-0-

"She wanted me to give this to you to take to her sister," Hugo held out an envelope.

James began to reach for it, but hesitated. "I feel awful about that. I should have already gone to see her," he admitted. "Juliet, I'm sorry."

"She says it's okay. She says she understands but she wants you to do it now for her. Please," Hugo translated, still holding out the envelope.

James took it and tried to keep his fingers from trembling.

"There's a message she wants you to give her too," Hugo continued. When James heard the message, he actually took a step back in shock. "She says Rachel will know what it means."

-0-

_Rachel opened the envelope and Juliet's necklace spilled out into her hand. James recognized it immediately, a little gold wishbone suspended from a delicate gold chain. She almost never took it off. He had to clench his fingers to keep from snatching it back. _

_"She asked me to give it to you with a message," he forced himself to begin, though the words burned at his chest. _

-0-

"Dude, she says she's got to go now. She says you know how she feels. She says she's already told you," Hugo finished sadly, his eyes watching a spot just to James's left.

"Give us a minute," James asked him and Hugo nodded and walked off a short distance away to stare at the ocean.

James felt a little odd addressing empty air, but he closed his eyes and did it anyway. "I told you that I love you a thousand times, but I don't think I ever told you that I need you. Or at least I didn't tell you enough."

He had to pause to breathe a moment before he could speak again and the words came out rough and shaky. "I still need you, Blondie. Nothing in my life is ever going to be right without you. But I promise you this – I'm going to try. I'm going to try to be the man I ought to be for you. Because you made me better."

He thought he felt something caress his lips, a soft breeze of a touch. "You go," he instructed her hoarsely. "You go be alive and wait for me. You look for me because I'm coming. And when I get there, I'm going to find you and I'm never going to let you go."

The soft breeze traveled over his cheek and through his hair, then it was gone.

And so was she.

-0-

_"She said to tell you 'It worked'." James took a deep breath but the tears began to spring to his eyes anyway. "What does that mean?" he asked desperately in a voice made gruff by emotion. "Why did she say 'It worked'?" _

_Rachel looked up at him with eyes bright with tears of her own. "Her first marriage was awful," Rachel began. "The guy was a controlling, philandering asshole who only married her so he could put her to work for nothing in his lab. When she finally divorced him, I gave her this necklace and told her it would bring her love and happiness." _

_She smiled and he could suddenly see Juliet in her face. "I guess she found that with you. It worked." _

_-0-_

_Flashsideways_

_Jim shook the candy machine with everything he had but the damned bar still hung in the rack, unmoving. "Oh, come on," he groaned as his stomach growled. "Unbelievable." He reached up inside the machine in an attempt to dislodge the stuck chocolate and was promptly caught by a tall blonde in a white labcoat. _

_"Can I help you?" she asked. _

_Shit. Caught by the hospital staff. There was only one way to go under those circumstances, so he played the badge card. "It's okay," he assured her as he reached for his ID. "I'm a cop."_

_She was unmoved. "Maybe you should read the machine its rights?"_

_He wondered if she were kidding or being sarcastic, then he caught the glint of humor in her eye. He was being teased. "That's funny," he laughed._

_She stepped closer to him and added in a conspiratorial tone, "Can I tell you a secret?"_

_"Please," he replied, happy to listen to anything blondie had to say. _

_"If you unplug it, and then you plug it back in again, the candy just drops right down," she stated. _

_Jim grinned at her, "Is that right?"_

_The blonde doctor nodded. "Yes, and it's technically legal."_

_She was teasing him again. He decided he liked it. "Okay. I'll give that a shot."_

_The machine plugged in on the far wall and he crouched down to reach it, hoping blondie would stick around to see what happened. The plug popped out of the socket, taking out the lights in the room instead. _

_"Oops." He hoped he hadn't blown any fuses as the candy hit the floor of the machine with a bang. Before he could retrieve it, the lovely blonde reached into the dispenser. _

_She held the candy out to him with a beautiful smile. "It worked."_


	35. Chapter 35 In the Sweet

Chapter 35 – In the Sweet

James woke with a start as the jet began to bank.

"We're about to land in LA," Frank informed him. "Where's Kate?"

James looked across the aisle, but Kate was nowhere to be seen. He rose from his seat with a stretch. "I'll go tell her we're landing," he offered.

He found her crying in the little storage area next to the bathroom. "Hey," he began, "what's wrong?"

She hastily wiped her eyes and stood up, pushing past him. "I'm okay," she answered.

He put a hand on her arm. "Tell me what's wrong." Then it occurred to him. "It's Jack, right? Seeing the grave made it all real, didn't it?"

She nodded. "How are you okay with it?" she asked, her voice hoarse from crying. "I saw you on the beach. I know how bad you miss her. How are you so okay now and I'm falling apart?"

He didn't know. Somehow he'd said goodbye. Somehow he'd turned the page at last. He knew she'd moved on without him. It still hurt so bad he wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, but he knew she was okay and she wanted him to be okay too. However, it was still too fresh in his heart to put it into words.

When he didn't answer right away, she sat down on a nearby seat and gazed out the window. "I've been seeing Richard for the past month or so," she admitted. "At first just to catch up and take care of business. But the last couple of dates have been real dates. Now, I feel like I was cheating on Jack even though I'm not." She turned back to face him with anger in her eyes.

"Even if Jack was alive and well and living on that damned island, we broke up. We broke up for reasons I thought were good reasons. Maybe if he hadn't-" she paused as her voice cracked. "Maybe if things had turned out differently, we'd be back together. Maybe I'd be living with him in a cabin next to Rose and Bernard." Then she wiped her eyes again and tried to laugh. "Maybe not. But I can't help it. I feel like I'm cheating on him. With Richard!"

Kate and old raccoon eyes. The mind boggled. Hell, he then decided, to each his own and they could both use somebody who really understood. "Kate, you aren't cheating on Jack. As bad as it hurts, Jack's gone. He ain't coming back. And he knew how you felt about him. He wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life grieving and miserable over him."

He put his hand on her shoulder and looked her straight in the eye. "You've got to let go. Take it easy. Don't rush it. But let go of him and have something here and now that can make you happy," he instructed her.

She nodded, then replied, "You too, James. You do the same thing. I think Juliet would want you to do the same thing."

"Nah. Some folks are meant to be alone, Kate. I'm meant to be alone," he stated as evenly as he could despite the sudden ache in his chest. Then he took a breath and headed for his seat. He didn't want to cry anymore.

-0-

The Next Year

"Happy birthday, dear Aaron, happy birthday to you!" the group sang around the gigantic cake on the outdoor dining table by the pool. Jim winced a little at Clementine's overly enthusiastic rendition as the now five year old boy blew out the candles with a tremendous breath.

"Look, Mommy! I got them all!" Jim noted that the little boy addressed this to Claire. Kate backed away slowly, a look of sad resignation in her eyes. Over the clamor of cake and ice cream, he made his way across the room to her.

"You all right, Freckles?" he asked her quietly. "That's what you've been working for, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "But it still hurts a little."

"The paperwork final?"

She nodded. "As of yesterday, Aaron is officially Claire's son again. Thank goodness for Richard's legal department at Mittelos and Hugo's money." She stared across the room where Aaron held out a piece of cake on his fork for Claire to taste. Claire took a bite then laughed and dotted his nose with some cake icing. She looked happier than Jim had seen her in years. In her lacy white shirt with her long blonde curls shining in the sunlight, she looked like a laughing angel.

"So what's next? You still moving in with Richard?" Jim asked. First Miles had moved to a new apartment uptown, then Cassidy had married Scott and moved several streets over. If Kate left, the neighborhood wouldn't be the same anymore. "Why doesn't Richard just move into your place?"

"I'm the one who wants to move, Jim. I just can't stand to be this close right now. I keep expecting Aaron to still be in his room every time I pass it," she sighed.

"But he is happy here, isn't he?" Jim asked, suddenly nervous. They had moved Aaron into Miles's old room as a transition to spending more time with Claire. Gradually, the boy had just stopped staying at Kate's all together. "We didn't rush him, did we?"

"Oh, no," Kate assured him. "He's fine. He loves it." Then she gave him an odd smile. "I think he calls you Daddy when you aren't listening."

Jim had heard and didn't have it in him to tell Aaron to stop. After all, the kid needed a daddy. Every kid needed a daddy. Even though Clem thought Scott was great, Jim was still Daddy and would always be. Aaron needed that too.

"So are you and Claire going to just set up housekeeping then?" Kate asked with a smile. "Going to take things to the next level?"

The thought took him completely by surprise. He hadn't considered it. He and Claire lived together. They took care of kids together. They were partners, compadres. But he hadn't thought of it going further.

"She would. She loves you," Kate declared into his silence. "And not just because you've taken such good care of her."

"I don't know about that," Jim backed away from the conversation.

"You told me once that I needed to let go and be happy. I think you need to do the same thing. Think about it," then she kissed him on the cheek and went to cut herself a piece of cake.

He tried not to watch Claire laughing with their guests, punching Miles on the arm playfully, dishing up more ice cream for Clementine before planting a big kiss on top of his daughter's head. Did she? Did she think of him that way?

The doorbell rang and he went to answer it. A deliveryman stood there with a huge box. Jim signed for it and carried it back inside. Hugo and Ben had sent an obscene number of toys, including a new videogame player and a stack of games. Miles would have a field day, he decided.

Once the kids had finished squealing and throwing wrapping paper on the floor, he dragged the empty boxes out to the garage. On his way back into the kitchen, Claire met him with a plate of cake and ice cream in hand.

"You haven't had your sugar bomb yet," she teased in that accent of hers. "I cut you a piece with extra icing."

He took it. "Thanks."

"You okay?" she asked. "You seemed a little quiet in there. Everything all right?"

"Sure, just got a headache from all the kids screaming," he lied.

"I'll get you something for it," she offered. In the kitchen she retrieved some aspirin, took down a glass, and filled it with cool water. "Maybe this will help."

He took the pills and washed them down, glad for the drink. "This is the glass you beaned me with that time," he recalled with a laugh.

"Oh, God, don't remind me. That was so awful. You still have a scar," she moaned and reached up to his forehead to brush his hair back away from it.

As her fingers ran gently over his eyebrow, he saw that her wrist still bore a white line where she'd tried to slit it that day. "You still have yours too," he noted, taking his hand in hers to trace over the mark. "We've been through a hell of a lot together, haven't we?"

She stood very quiet beside him and he suddenly realized just how close they were standing.

"Yeah, we have," she replied at last.

"You guys done in here or can I come raid the fridge for a beer?" Miles asked as he rounded the corner.

Claire stepped away from Jim as if she'd been caught at something and opened the refrigerator door. "Got a Four X if you want it," she offered.

"No Foster's? Australian for beer?" Miles asked with a grin.

"I've got a case of Natty Lite in the garage," Jim interjected.

"Why don't you people buy something worth drinking? You've got the money," Miles moaned.

"So do you, Spuds McKenzie. Bring your own next time." Jim snarled playfully.

"Can't. Had to stop drinking at my house. Dakota is seriously into low-carb. No alcohol," Miles sighed.

"Sounds awful," Jim retorted, taking the Four X Claire offered Miles. Aussie beer was different but it was beer. Beer was a gift. You didn't quit drinking a gift.

"I know. But I am looking better these days. Less flabby," Miles declared. "So just one Natural Light, okay?"

"You know where to find it," James gestured at the garage door.

"Where is Dakota anyway?" Claire asked Jim once Miles left the kitchen, beer in hand. "I thought she was coming."

"She had an exhibition to go to. She's supposed to come over for dinner later if that's all right," Jim answered. "We'll order pizza or something."

"I'm just glad to see Miles with somebody. Everybody deserves the chance to be happy," Claire sighed.

"Are you?"Jim heard himself ask.

"Am I what?"

"Happy. Are you happy here? With me?"

Claire gave him a long look and reached out to take his hand. She held his fingers lightly in hers and said, "You know I am. I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me and Aaron."

"Claire, I want you to be happy. Like Miles is happy. Don't feel like you've got to stay here with me if you don't want to. I'll be fine if you and Aaron want to get your own place together since things are going so well," he offered, but inside he cringed at the thoughts of an empty house.

Her brow wrinkled for a moment, then she answered cheerfully, "Jim, I want you to be happy too. If you need space to find somebody, I understand. I don't want us to be in your way."

Her voice was so soft and sincere, but beneath the cheer she sounded sad. He didn't want her to feel like he was throwing her out. He didn't want her to go. He didn't want Aaron to go. He just didn't want them chained to him because he was too cowardly to go it alone.

"I once begged Juliet to stay with me because I didn't want to be alone. If I'd been strong enough to let her go, she'd be alive right now," Jim began. "It's my fault she stayed on that island and died."

Claire gave him a sad smile. "Did you ever think once that maybe Juliet stayed with you because she wanted to? Did you twist her arm? Did she turn down other chances to leave after that? Give her some credit for her choice, Jim. She wanted to be with you. I'm sure she did."

"What makes you so sure?" he asked in a whisper.

"I just am," she responded firmly, then she gave his cheek a soft kiss and left.

For some reason, the room felt very empty without her.

-0-

The Next Spring

"Happy birthday, dear Miles, happy birthday to you!" the group sang around the gigantic low-carb cake beside the pool. Frank and Cindy had come over, as well as Hugo for once, but Kate and Richard were in Paris.

Once the singing and age jibes were out of the way, Claire began serving up cake as Aaron and Clementine jumped back into the pool. Jim deliberately looked away as Dakota playfully fed Miles a bite, then gave him a huge kiss. His friend looked younger and happier than he'd ever seen him, but Jim had no interest in watching the newlyweds grope each other.

"It's gotta be the young wife," Jim complained a few minutes later to Claire as Miles swung Dakota into the air and into the pool with a splash and a laugh.

"I'm just glad they found each other," Claire answered as she passed him a piece of low-carb cake. "They look so happy."

Jim took a cautious bite of his cake and nodded in approval. "This is really good," he admitted. "You did great."

"I try," she laughed.

They sat together watching Miles, Dakota, and Clementine play Marco Polo in the water. Jim noticed that the filter cover in the walkway around the pool had gotten knocked out of place. "Somebody will step right into that hole," he declared.

"I'll get it," Claire offered. "I'm headed back for another drink."

She knelt to adjust the cover just as Aaron came running past her with a gigantic swim ring around his waist. Jim couldn't help but laugh as the ring bounced Claire into the water, drink cup and all. She came up spluttering and laughing, her dress soaked.

"I thought you weren't swimming today," Miles quipped with a laugh.

"Well, I hadn't planned on it," she retorted and began to half wade/half swim to the steps. Jim met her at the top and offered her a hand. As she stepped out of the water, her floral sundress stopped floating around her like a flower and began to cling to her body in wet sheets, revealing the lines of her underwear and even her belly button.

"You could be a wet t-shirt contest winner," he teased and enjoyed the blush that ran over her. She self-consciously pulled the dress away from her skin, but it only clung in new places.

He grabbed a towel off the rack and threw it around her. For some reason, he didn't really want the other guys gawking at her.

"Thank you," she murmured gratefully, then informed the group, "I'm just going to get changed."

"Don't bother on account of us," Miles laughed as Dakota splashed him.

Claire stopped at the door to dry off the worst of the water that soaked her hair and clothing. Everyone else turned back to their cake and hotdogs, but Jim kept watching her as she leaned over and swung her hair to the side, toweling it off with scrunching motions. The floral dress had begun to dry just a little, but one gigantic pink flower still clung to her thigh like a tattoo.

They'd lived together for almost two years and he'd never seen her like this. He'd seen her in pajamas and robes, and with her hair in a towel, but the glimpse of skin and shape that shone through that dress was on a whole new level.

He'd seen her in a swimsuit before and had thought to himself how pretty she was, but for some reason, seeing her curves outlined by that wet dress did something to him he wasn't prepared for.

As if she felt his eyes on her, she looked back at him, her face still framed by her hair. Their eyes locked for a long stormy moment, then she gave him a smile – and not the cheery smile he knew so well. This smile said she'd seen his expression. She knew what his body was thinking and she was okay with that.

Then, never breaking eye contact, she swung her hair back over her head and stepped inside. She held the door open for a moment longer than necessary, then closed it behind her.

He glanced around anxiously, suddenly afraid that everyone else around the tables was staring at him as he stood there like an oversexed teenage boy. To his relief, everyone was talking or swimming or eating, so he took the opportunity to slip inside the house.

He looked around the laundry room for her and found her dress hanging across a rack to dry. So he headed upstairs, wondering what he was doing and why he was doing it.

All he knew was something had shifted inside him. Something he hadn't seen or had ignored had suddenly leaped in front of him in a way he couldn't hide from anymore.

Her door was partially open and he could see her before her dresser, pulling on a pair of lacy pink briefs. Whatever had hit him before slammed him hard again at the sight of her bare skin. He forced himself to turn away before she noticed him.

What was he thinking? This was Claire. She was like his sister or something. He was supposed to take care of her, to watch over her, not throw her down and screw her senseless.

But another voice inside him reminded him that she was not his sister. She was first and foremost his friend. That voice asked him why it had taken him so long to see the way she looked at him. The way she worked in casual touches through the day. The way she sometimes jumped back when he stepped in too close.

He leaned against the wall outside her room and tried to slow his breathing, to will his body back into submission.

"Hey," her voice sounded surprised as she opened her door.

"Hey, yourself." He sounded out of breath.

"Did you come to make sure I am all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, just wanted to be sure you were okay."

"I'm okay."

He couldn't look at her, not right that minute. He didn't want her to see what he was feeling.

"Well, I'm going back to the party," he said, addressing the air over her head.

"Okay, me too," she answered, but neither of them moved.

Finally, he looked at her. Her hair was still damp but drying into little frizzy curls around her face. He couldn't meet her eyes, but her lips were so pink and full. Unbidden, his eyes traveled to her breasts and feasted on the little peek of cleavage that showed at the neck of her thin-strapped camisole t-shirt. He could still imagine their full curve through her wet dress and the narrowness of her waist. Her shoulders were all but bare and their smooth curve begged to be touched. He knew that her skin would feel like silk.

When his eyes travelled back up to her eyes at last, he saw understanding in them, understanding and a smoldering question of her own.

"I'm sorry," he tried to apologize, but she laid a finger on his lips and her touch ran over him like quicksilver.

"You don't know how long I've wanted you to look at me that way," she whispered huskily. "Don't apologize."

He reached for her then with abandon, kissing her soft mouth hungrily, desperately, as if he wouldn't be able to survive any longer without her touch. All conscious thought suddenly fled from his head as his body took over. His hands ran beneath her shirt to pull her into him. He buried his face in her neck as his mouth explored her skin. She tasted good. She smelled good. She felt good.

He felt her hands in his hair and warm against the skin of his back, pulling him even closer.

He wanted it. He wanted her so badly at that moment that he nearly dragged her into her room to throw her across her bed.

But something stopped him. Why? he asked himself. Why was he doing this? What did it mean?

The old Sawyer he used to be wouldn't have asked. He would have just taken what Claire offered and decided what to do with her later.

But Jim Ford couldn't do that. "Wait a minute," he managed to say, even though his hands still cupped her waist just beneath her breasts, his thumbs searching beneath the band of her bra.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked her. "Why now?"

"I don't know," she began in a breathless voice. Then she took a step back from him, pulling his hands from her waist, to hold them in hers. "Maybe this will ruin everything. Maybe I will regret this until the day I die. But I love you. I love being with you. That's all. I just want to be with you."

Then she gave his fingers a squeeze and walked away.

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_Detective Jim Ford stood outside a downtown bookstore and waited for his partner to come back from the taco stand. The glass door jingled as it opened and a very pregnant blonde woman walked out. It was the girl from the plane. _

_"Hey," he greeted her. "How's it going?" _

_"Good. Good," she answered. "You're the guy from the plane that helped me with my bag. Thanks." _

_"I see you've got a new book," he noted, gesturing to the thick paperback in her hand. _

_She held it up for him – _What to Expect the First Year_. "I'll be needing this soon," she laughed. "I've decided to keep the baby." _

_"That's great," he agreed, though he'd had no idea she was thinking of giving it up. "So you got a place to stay in LA? Friends? Family?"_

_"My brother asked me to come stay with him and his son. So yeah. I'm good," she nodded. _

_Just then Miles walked up, trailing taco juice down his arm. "I need napkins. They never give you enough napkins," he complained. _

_"See you around," the girl said and gave him a little wave as she walked away. _

_"She's pretty hot," Miles commented. "For a pregnant girl. I think she likes you." _

_"Nah. I'm just being helpful and she's being polite," Jim replied as they headed the other way to their car. _

_"She looks familiar though. Do we know her?" Miles asked, throwing another glance over his shoulder at the retreating figure. _

_"She just flew in from Australia. So, no. I don't think we do," Jim replied. _

_Miles shrugged as he polished off the last of his taco and tossed the wrapper in the nearest trashcan. "You should get her phone number or something." _

_"Are you kidding? Did you see how pregnant she was?" Jim tried to sound more incredulous than he felt. "She's like a time bomb waiting to go off. She needs to find somebody who's ready to take that on too." He shook his head. "Nope, not for me." _

_"She's still hot though," Miles mused as they reached the car. _

_-0-_

"So you're finally going to do it, huh?" Miles hung over the side of the bartop and stared at him in that piercing way he had. "You're finally going to pop the question."

Jim turned the ring over in his fingers and nodded. "Yep. Gonna do it."

Miles laughed out loud, then walked over to clap him on the shoulder. "I think you should. You'll make a much better husband than you are a boyfriend."

Jim couldn't help but go after just a little further confirmation. After all, this was a huge step and not something he took lightly, not in the least. "You think she'll go for it? You think she'll say yes?"

"Yeah," Miles replied in an encouraging tone. "You've been through a lot together the past few years. She'll say yes." Then he glanced outside the window. "But unless you want to do it right now, you'd better stash that. She's coming."

Jim caught a flash of blonde shining in the sunshine outside the window and quickly popped the ring back in the box and the box deep in his pocket. "No offense, Miles, but I think I want to plan something a little more romantic than this."

Miles laughed again, tossed back his drink, and stood up to leave. "Call me when you've done it," he said. "And Dakota loved the proposal in the hot air balloon. I still have the guy's number in my phone."

"No thanks," Jim replied. "I'm keeping my feet on the ground."

Claire entered the kitchen with a hello to Miles.

"I was just on my way out," Miles apologized. "But we'll see you guys tomorrow night at Vanelli's for Dakota's birthday, right?"

"Sure." Jim nodded, looking at Claire for confirmation.

"We wouldn't miss it," she declared firmly. "It will be nice to have a grown-up outing for once."

"Unless you'd rather have another pool party?" Jim teased.

"That's all right. We'll go eat at the big kids' table tomorrow night," Miles replied and headed out the door.

Once Miles left, Jim fingered the box in his pocket as Claire pulled some salad ingredients out of the refrigerator.

It had been hard to buy the ring. It had been even harder to consider how to propose. The awful sadness when he thought of Juliet had tempered over the past few years to a sweet, gentle memory, a kind of wistfulness.

However, deep inside he knew that no matter how much Claire loved him, no matter how much he genuinely cared for her, it would never be the same. Juliet had completed him in a way he would never find again.

Part of him believed he was cheating Claire by only giving her part of his heart, but part of him knew she was doing the same thing.

He ended up asking her beside the pool that evening as the sun went down. The kids were inside watching television and for once it was quiet.

"You know I will," had been her answer. "But I'm not moving into your room until after the wedding and no sex."

"What's new about that?" he teased her as he pressed a big kiss onto her cheek. After that crazy moment in the hallway a couple of months before, the two of them had tiptoed around the issue of their newly found sexual attraction until he finally came to grips with it.

He wanted to be more than her friend. He wanted to truly be her partner. So he told her so, but she still refused to go past a bit of groping on the sofa after the kids were in bed. She didn't want to push him, she declared. She wanted him to have plenty of time to know for sure how he felt.

He appreciated that.

But every night, he'd lie in his very empty bed and think about the fact that she was only a few feet away in the room next door. All he had to do was take a few steps down the hall and he could be right there in her arms.

However, he wouldn't take those steps. He was not going to let his loneliness dictate her life. She called the shots where the physical part of their relationship was concerned.

A few nights before the wedding, he paused at her door to say goodnight and spotted her putting her engagement ring into her jewelry box. The door stood partway open and he watched as she took another ring out and held it for a long moment. It was a large man's ring embossed with the initials DS.

He must have made a sound of some kind because she looked over her shoulder at him, and he was disturbed to see something that looked like fear in her eyes.

"Hey," he began. "You okay?"

She hastily put the ring back in the case and closed it. "I'm fine, just looking over some old things," she declared and cleared her throat.

He came into her room and took a seat on the bench at the end of her bed. "Several years ago," he began, "a good friend of mine had a huge argument with his wife because he found something she'd kept, a necklace that had belonged to her dead husband. My friend had a jealous fit and got so drunk he missed the birth of his son."

He sighed. That night seemed so long ago but so fresh all at the same time. He remembered how relieved Juliet was and how amazed Horace had looked when he held that tiny baby for the first time. God, they'd been so happy. The very next morning it had all fallen apart.

He shook himself. "Anyway, what I want you to know is that I understand. I know why you keep Charlie's ring. I saw you two together. I watched you," he admitted. "Deep down, I was jealous. And I know that if he was here right now, I wouldn't have a chance."

He took her hand and pulled her to sit next to him. "I can't be him. But that's okay. I'm going to do the best I can to love you and take care of you and make you happy, Claire. From now until the day we die," he promised.

She leaned against his shoulder. "Me too," she replied in a soft voice. "We're in the same boat. I know you still miss her. I know I'm not her. But I'm going to do the same thing, Jim. I'm going to love you and do my best to take care of you. Until death do we part."

He allowed himself a relieved smile and said, "That's settled then. But one more thing. The past can't hang over us. We have to make something new together that's just for us, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed.

He stood and pulled her into his arms for a long hug. "Goodnight, Blon—" he started to say, then pulled back. "Goodnight, Sheila," he teased.

"'Night, Bruce," she retorted with a laugh and a warm, sincere kiss that left him breathless.

-0-

_Flashsideways_

_"It worked." _

_Blondie in the lab coat offered him the candy with a smile that made him feel like the sun had come out. He felt like a kid on his first day of school, like something was coming – something good, something he'd been waiting for a long time, but something that gave him the nervous shivers all the way down his spine._

_He smiled back at her in the soft glow of the drink machine and reached for the bar. _


	36. Chapter 36 Bye and Bye

Chapter 36 - Bye and Bye

_Flashback_

_The room was dark and cool. He could barely make out the faces of his kids where they stood beside his bed. _When had they gotten so old?_ he wondered. Then a hand took his. Clem. _

_"Hey, Dad," she whispered and leaned closer. "I'm here. We're all here." _

_The crushing weight in his chest eased long enough for him to try to smile. She was crying. He didn't want her to cry. _

_"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm okay. Just moving on. It's time." _

_"Then you go. Go see Mom," Aaron said gently, but his voice was rough and his face was wet too. "We'll be along later, okay?" _

_He tried to nod, but he was so tired. He closed his eyes to rest for a while as their voices murmured around him. Somebody's hand held his. _

-0-

The room was dark now that he'd shorted the light by unplugging the candy machine. The blonde doctor knelt beside it, the glow of the drink machine illuminating her face. "It worked," she said, holding out the chocolate bar with a smile.

Jim reached out in the fluorescent shine to take the candy. As his fingers brushed against hers, a heavy swirl of dizziness ran through him, as if the floor had rolled beneath his feet. He took a step back to steady himself, aware that she did the same thing. But more gripping than his personal earthquake was the sudden, sure knowledge that he knew her. He'd seen her before. He remembered her, but from a place he'd never been.

"Whoa," he breathed. "Did you feel that?"

She looked at him hard as if she were trying to place him in her own memory and moved closer, her blue eyes never leaving his. "We should get coffee sometime," she suggested.

"I'd love to," he answered sincerely, "but that machine ate my dollar. I only got one left." He now stood only inches away from her, drawn to her by some force he couldn't name, but a force that felt so familiar.

"We can go Dutch."

Her words echoed in his ears and in his memory in emotional stereo. He'd heard her say that before. He'd held her in his arms, terrified, and heard her say that before. A strong sense of déjà vu slammed into him and he suddenly couldn't breathe.

He reached for her, and as she touched his hand, something leaped inside his brain. Everything he thought he knew about his life unraveled in an instant. His years on the force, his time in LA, it all just fell away from him like tissue to be replaced by another life. He gripped her fingers tightly as the memories flooded back through him.

Green trees and a warm jungle sun. She was there, his best friend, the one he knew could count on. He'd sat at a dock and asked her to stay with him in that green tropical place.

They'd lived together, cooked together, laughed together in a little yellow house with a tiny kitchen. She used to come home in a blue jumpsuit with her long hair in a ponytail.

He remembered her intimately – the way her hair smelled like strawberries as it ran like silk through his fingers, the way her body felt pressed against his, the way her eyes lit up when he entered the room.

He gripped her hand in the darkness of the little snack room, but he knew in that moment exactly how it felt to touch her bare skin warm beside him in the night. How it felt to kiss her for the first time and for the last. How it felt to love her so much it hurt.

"Juliet." He whispered her name aloud, but his throat burned like he'd been screaming her name in terror.

Dear God, he knew her. He knew how it felt to lose her forever and live without her, the void in his life an aching hole that would never be filled.

She'd slipped through his fingers into the awful darkness, despite his desperate attempts to hold on. He'd held her in his arms at the bottom of a black chasm, as everything he needed, everything he loved, died with her. He'd walked out of that place a different man, an empty man, because she'd left him.

Years of grief and hurt poured back through him, a lifetime of missing her, of trying to be happy despite the empty spot in his heart.

He'd needed her so much. He'd missed her so badly.

Now his fingers touched hers once more.

"Juliet, it's - it's me," he stammered as he reached out to cup her face, to embrace her in disbelief. "It's me, baby."

His breath caught as he considered the miracle he held in his arms - alive, real, just as beautiful as he remembered.

How was this possible? How had he come to this place of mercy and grace that gave her back to him again?

His heart pounded and his breath grew ragged in his chest as he realized that he was not dreaming. That it was really her fingers in his hair, her cheek on his shoulder. She smelled so good. She felt so right against him.

"It's me, baby," he whispered into her hair as he held her. She began to tremble and cry, clinging to him like he might vanish. "I gotcha," he assured her. "I gotcha, baby."

After a long moment, she pulled back to look him in the face, her eyes bright with tears, but she was smiling now and laughing. "Kiss me, James?" she asked tremulously. The request tore through him. He never dreamed he'd get the chance to kiss her again.

"You got it, Blondie."

Their lips met gently at first then with increasing passion. He couldn't get enough of her. He wanted to just take her into himself and relax into her presence. He'd finally come home.

Time stood still as they held each other in the light of the drink machine.

"I can't believe I found you again," she whispered into his neck.

"I never stopped missing you. For all those years, I never stopped missing you," he admitted, and emotion suddenly gripped him with an undeniable hold. He couldn't stop shivering and clung to her tightly as she murmured comforting words and stroked his hair.

It had been so long. So much had happened to him after she died, so many things he wanted to tell her about, so many things only she would understand.

"I wasn't the same man after I lost you. I tried to go on, to do what I ought to do, but I wasn't the same," he sighed.

"It's okay," she replied gently. "We've got to let go of the past. It's time to move on to something new, something for both of us, okay?"

He nodded and took her hand with a smile. They had to go. But he couldn't leave without doing a few things first. He checked his phone to see if Miles had texted him again. "I've got to see Miles," he stated as he dropped his partner a quick message to stay put at the concert.

"Miles is here? You know him?" she asked.

"I've been his partner for the past six years," he replied with a grin. "And in all that time, neither one of us remembered a thing. Weird, huh?"

She gave him a smile and an uneasy laugh. "Weird."

They headed back down the hall to the elevator, only to be hailed by an older woman with long curly hair. An older man in round glasses and Birkenstocks followed close behind. "Wait! Dr. Shepherd, wait!" the woman called.

"Shepherd?" he asked Juliet, but she just gave him a look, a look he remembered so well. Suddenly he felt completely at home despite the fact that an older, much older Amy Goodspeed was calling her Shepherd.

"Hey, you guys," Juliet said with a smile.

"Have you seen Ethan? We were supposed to meet him for dinner tonight," Amy asked.

"He had a patient go into labor, I believe," Juliet answered. "He'll probably be a while. You might want to let him call you later."

"We'll do that," Horace stated. "Come on, Ames, the boy will surface when he's done."

James couldn't help but stare at the couple who'd once been such good friends. Seeing them again brought back so many memories.

"Do we know each other?" Horace asked him. "You seem really familiar."

James shrugged. "Jim Ford, LAPD," he replied with a smile and a handshake. "I don't think we've met before. You don't look like the criminal type."

Horace and Amy laughed. "Well, Dr. Shepherd, you be careful with this one," Amy teased. "He might like handcuffs."

"I'll be careful," Juliet assured her and led James down the hallway to the elevators as the Goodspeeds walked the other way.

Once the older couple turned the corner out of earshot, James let out his breath with a whoosh. "That was just freaky," he stated. "They were so old. And Ethan is like a good guy here?"

"James, he wasn't a bad guy there," Juliet corrected him. "He was just in a bad position. So was I."

"And what's with this Dr. Shepherd business?" James asked, a surge of jealousy running to the forefront of his brain. "

"I was married to Jack for about nine years," she admitted wryly as the elevator doors opened.

He followed her inside and leaned back against the wall, frowning.

Jack. She'd been married to Jack here. They'd been together for nine years. He tried not to think any more about what that meant.

"Did he make you happy?" he asked at last.

"We had some good times," she sighed. "And some not so good times. We just weren't right for each other."

The almost forty years he had with Claire surged into his consciousness and he knew he had to let it go. "I'm glad he was here for you," James said, taking her hands in his. "I'm glad you weren't alone or married to that asshole first husband of yours."

She gave a bitter laugh. "Oh my God, I am so glad I didn't get stuck with Edmund Burke again!" she exclaimed. "What about you? Any skeletons in your closet on this side?"

He shook his head, then guilt hit him in the solar plexus. "Son of a bitch!" he groaned. "I slept with Ginger - Charlotte - Daniel's Charlotte! Holy shit. Why her? Why couldn't I have found you last week? Why did it have to take so damn long?"

To his relief, she just laughed and leaned into his arms.

The elevator opened and they stepped out into the parking garage. Bernard and Rose still stood there beside their car, arguing.

"What's up, you two?" James asked genially, suddenly full of delight that he knew them. He had been good friends with the both of them for decades.

"He insists that we know you," Rose sighed. "I keep trying to tell him we don't."

"Oh, but you do, Rose," Juliet assured her. "The last time I saw you, you offered me a cup of tea. I wish I'd accepted it. I needed to take a few minutes to think. Maybe it would have turned out differently if I had."

"Doctor, I am sure I have never seen you," Rose declared. "And no matter how convinced he thinks he is, Bernard doesn't know your friend either."

"Husband. I'm not her friend, I'm her husband," James corrected her, then he placed a hand on Bernard's shoulder. "You were right. I was looking for my wife."

Bernard looked at him long and hard, then frowned sadly. "You two never got married," Bernard mused with a shake of his head. "She died. We used to talk about her though."

"Yes, I died," Juliet agreed gently, putting a hand on Rose as well. "We all did."

"Bernard?" Rose called to her husband in a weak voice. "Bernard?"

Bernard stepped closer and put his arms around her. "I'm here, Rosie. I never left you. Not once. I stayed right by your side and you stayed by mine."

Suddenly realization broke over Rose's face and the uncertainty gave way to a smile of pure joy. "Oh, Bernard, we're free," she sighed in soft exultation as she rested against his chest. "We made it. We're free!"

James glanced at Juliet to see she was wiping her eyes. He pulled her into his embrace. "I guess we're free too," he whispered.

She hugged him hard and kissed his cheek with a huge smile. "Then let's go be free!"

Bernard laughed out loud, a big merry booming laugh. "That's a great idea. Let's all go be free! We'll see you there!" he called as he took Rose's hand and put her in the passenger side. "My Rosie and I have got stuff to do before we go!"

"See you later!" Rose called happily out the window as the couple drove away.

"We have all the time in the world," Juliet declared joyfully. "So what do you want to do?" she asked, taking James' hand in hers and skipping ahead of him.

"I've got to see Miles. And Claire." James felt in his heart he needed to be sure of them. He'd spent too many years taking care of them both not to look out for them now. "What about you? Do you need to find Jack?"

"David," she said softly to herself, then shook her head as if she'd made her mind up about something. She wiped at her cheeks, then smiled again. "Let's go find Miles."

They ran to her SUV, a big expensive thing full of leather and wood. He glanced into the back seat to see a soccer ball and a bookbag. "What's this?" he asked curiously.

"Jack and I had a son here. His name is David. But I don't think he's still around," she sounded confused and a little sad.

"Where do you think he is? We can look for him," James suggested, still a little unhappy at this concrete proof that Jack had been there. Son of a bitch.

Juliet shook her head and pulled out of the parking garage. "I think he's gone on. It's strange though. He's mine. I know he's mine, but I always wondered how he could be Jack's."

James suddenly thought of a piece of paper he found in a dead file in Dharmaville. "Maybe he was mine," he realized in a quiet voice. "I found the letter after you. . . You were pregnant."

She sucked in her breath and slowed the SUV to a crawl. "I thought so. I was almost positive," she remembered. Then she looked at him with that clear vision and determination he loved so much and missed so badly when she was gone. "If he's ours, then he'll be there. He'll be waiting for us there."

"Do you want to go on now?" James asked, unable to hide the excitement in his voice. "We can. We can go right now without everybody else."

"No. We need to see Miles and you need to find Claire and be sure she knows," Juliet answered as she accelerated again. "Where are we heading?"

James called Miles and verified that he was still at the concert, keeping an eye out for Jarrah - Sayid, James thought with a smile.

"Keep looking. I'm on my way there," James advised him, putting him on speakerphone so Juliet could enjoy Miles' confusion.

"Hey, and I saw that pregnant chick – the hot blonde from Australia. She sat at my table, can you believe that?" Miles laughed.

"Is she still there?" James asked.

"No, she's not," Juliet interjected. "She's there!" She pointed out the window at the hospital's emergency entrance where Charlie whistled for a taxi, Claire standing beside him holding something in her arms.

They pulled over and James felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. Claire had been dead for six years, dead of cancer way too young. But there she was looking twenty-one again. When he stepped out of Juliet's SUV, her eyes caught him. She murmured something to Charlie and carefully passed Charlie the bundle she held.

Then she ran toward James. "Hey!" she yelled as she threw herself into his arms. "You're here! Oh, I'm so glad to see you again!"

"Where you been, Sheila?" he asked with a teasing laugh. Then he planted a big happy kiss on her lips. "I missed you. I never would have made it without you. And it just wasn't the same with you gone."

"Have you heard from Miles?" she asked, taking a step back to talk. "He was at my table at dinner tonight and I didn't even recognize him. Then after I remembered, I couldn't find him again."

"He'll be along, I'm sure. We're going to see if we can't turn him up," he replied, giving her shoulders a squeeze as they walked back to where Charlie and Juliet waited, looks of confusion on their faces.

She took the bundle back from Charlie and pulled aside the blanket to reveal a tiny baby's face. "It's Aaron," she crooned. "Can you believe it? He's just a baby again."

"Hey, sport," he greeted, doing his best to hide the way his heart lurched with tenderness. He reached out a finger to let the tiny hand grip it. "It's so crazy to see him this little again. He's supposed to be forty."

"So just how did you know Aaron at forty?" Charlie asked suspiciously from the side.

James considered the best way to answer that question. In his heart, Aaron was his son. That little boy had called him Daddy for decades. But this was a new place, a new time, with a new potential.

Claire answered instead. "Jim and I were married after we got back home. He was Aaron's dad," she stated gently.

"So you two?" Charlie took a step closer, his eyes fixed on Claire as a look of desperation began to cross his face.

James turned to look at Juliet, to be sure she understood. She wore that familiar cool expression that meant she was waiting to hear more, her mind was weighing the information and delaying emotion until she determined whether to kiss him or kill him.

A huge grin broke over his face as he watched her. The tumblers of the universe rolled into place in his heart and he knew he was home. He took two quick steps in her direction and looked her straight in those cool, appraising eyes. "I waited over forty years to have you look at me like that again," he stated. "So kiss me. Or slap me. I don't give a damn which one. Just don't leave me."

She kissed him.

Somewhere behind him he was aware that Claire and Charlie were doing the same thing.

"We're headed to find Miles," James announced a short while later. "You guys want a ride to the church? We can drop you off on the way or you can come with us."

"I want to see Miles again. And Dakota," Claire pled with Charlie, who kept a possessive arm across her shoulders. "Please?"

He nodded and his eyes softened a little as he looked into her face. "Yeah. Let's go," he acquiesced.

As everyone jumped into Juliet's vehicle, James took out his cell and dialed his partner.

"Where are you?" Miles asked. "I've looked all over for that Jarrah character. No sign of him."

"You still at the concert?"

"I'm watching the pianist make moon-eyes at your date from the other night. I think his mom is about to blow a gasket," Miles quipped.

"Give me ten minutes."

Ten minutes later, they pulled into the side street next to the stage. The crowd had thinned, but there were still a number of dressed-up couples milling about making small talk.

James spotted Miles across the parking lot and couldn't help his delighted laugh at the look of confusion on his face as the four of them descended on him.

"I see you found the Australian chick," Miles noted dryly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You've been my partner for six years here, right?" James began. "In all that time did you ever think that maybe you knew me before then?"

"Let's see. Before we were partners, I was in the academy and you were working homicide in Memphis. So no. I never once considered that I might have known you before then," Miles declared sarcastically. "And why is she looking at me like that?" he gestured toward Claire, whose smile practically radiated happiness into the air.

"What about me, Miles?" Juliet asked, her face so calm but with a touch of wistfulness. "Do you remember me from somewhere?"

Miles gave her a blank look, a very blank look.

"Risk. Taco night. Jin." James tried to jog his memory. Then he remembered. "Hey, I saw Jin!" he declared happily. "And Sun! At the hospital!"

Juliet laughed out loud. "I did too! I did a sonogram of their baby. Ji Yeun! They remembered!"

"Okay, you people are freaking me out," Miles interjected, taking a step back.

"You're not going anywhere until you remember," James declared and took his friend's shoulder in a firm grip. "Miles, you were my best friend. Both there and here. That's got to mean something to you."

Claire also reached out a hand to his arm. "You and Dakota used to come over and we'd grill by the pool. Remember?"

"There was a J&J on the inside of the Risk box on the island. You used to win every time," Juliet added in a gentle voice. She took his hand in hers and looked him straight in the eye. "We let you win."

"You didn't!" The flash ran over him like a bolt of lightning. "There was no way you guys let me win."

"It was so much more fun when you won," Juliet explained. "You'd be this benevolent dictator for half an hour, fixing us all drinks."

He looked at Juliet, his eyes wide with memory. "You're back! He got you back!" Then he hugged her as hard as he could, his dark eyes beginning to rim with tears.

Then he looked over at James and Claire. "You guys left me. You both died. It was just me and Dakota then," he complained. He hugged Claire, mindful of the baby. "Is that Aaron? That's not right."

Claire nodded, her eyes bright with happy tears as she smiled. Then he shook Charlie's hand as well. "She loved you a lot," Miles told him. "Sorry I never got a chance to get to know you before you drowned." Charlie just shrugged it off, but kept one arm around Claire's shoulder.

Then Miles turned to James at last. "Man. How could we work together and not remember?" he reached out and gave James a serious man-hug. "You were my best friend. I knew I could always count on you. Thanks, man."

James fought against the emotion threatening to creep up on him. "You too. Thanks for everything." He patted Miles on the back one more time then declared, "We've gotta find Dakota. Everybody is meeting at the church. It's time to go."

"Go where?" Miles asked curiously. "What church?" He looked around at the group, obviously lost. "I don't even know where Dakota is right now. It's 2004, right?" He paced a few steps, then looked up at them in disbelief. "She's in Prague. She studied abroad in the Czech Republic her last year of college. She's in Prague."

They all looked at each other for a moment. Then Miles spoke up. "I think I'm supposed to stay a while longer. She'll be back in the U. S. in a couple of months. That'll give me just a little more time with my mom and dad before we go."

James started to say that he and Juliet could stay, but he knew they couldn't. It was time. They had to go. He wiped at his eyes and stated, "We'll be waiting, okay? We'll be watching for you guys. Come as soon as you can."

Miles sniffed once himself and nodded. "Yeah. As soon as we can." Then he gave everybody another big hug and griped, "Why did you have to wake me up in 2004? Why not next spring?"

"I'm going to miss you, man," James said as he gave him one last handshake and embrace.

"Nah. You won't. I don't think there's any missing people there. Besides I'll be there before you know it." Miles smiled one last time and pushed them off on their way. "See you guys later!" he called as they drove away.

They headed down the freeway and into a quiet neighborhood. The streets were dark and peaceful now, only the glow of the occasional streetlight marked their path. Then they pulled into the parking lot of a lovely white church. The stained glass glowed with illumination from within.

"You sure this is it?" Charlie asked. "We're in the right place?"

Juliet nodded. "Something just tells me this is it."

James agreed and they headed in the side door of the building and into a large sanctuary filled with warm wooden pews. Several people stood around the open area at the front. "Jim!" a voice called. He looked across the room. Jin. It was Jin.

"Hey, Jinbo!" he called back and the two men met with a hug.

"I see you made it," Jin commented as he slapped him companionably on the shoulder. "Told you we'd see you."

"And look who I dragged with me," James laughed, taking Juliet by the hand. "I got her back. I got her back, Jin."

Jin and Juliet hugged, then Sun saw them and came running. "Did you remember in the hospital?" Sun asked her as she hugged them both. "We remembered when you showed us the baby."

"I remembered when I touched James's hand," Juliet sighed. "I spent years here with Jack and never remembered a thing. But the minute I touched him I knew." She turned to him, her face warm and loving. He cupped her cheek with his hand and leaned his forehead to hers.

How had he made it all those years without her?

They milled around for a few minutes, meeting and greeting. He was especially glad to shake Sayid's hand and see him with Shannon. James had carried a sting of guilt with him for years over the way Sayid had died, a sting that faded in the light of Sayid's genuinely happy greeting.

Hugo came in the door with a big laugh and bear hugged him and everyone else as usual. "So you finally hung it up at the island?" James asked.

"Yep. Turned it over to Walt. He'll do good." Hugo sounded equal parts relieved and regretful.

"Ben here anywhere?" James looked around. The two of them had been like Laurel and Hardy for decades.

"He decided to stay here a while longer. I think he wants to work through some stuff with Alex and her mom," Hugo answered. "It seems funny not to have him around though."

"So. I bet you've got an inside line on all this crazy stuff." James pulled the big man off to one side to ask, "Just where are we going?"

Hugo shrugged. "I have no idea, dude," he replied. "I just know it's a good place. A new place. But we all get to go together so no more looking for each other." He looked across the room where Libby was laughing with Bernard. "It's good not to be looking anymore."

James agreed. He looked around for Juliet. She was talking to Kate. Then the two women looked back at him at the same time and laughed. "What the hell?" he wondered aloud, patted Hurley on the shoulder, and walked toward the pair.

"What's so funny over here, ladies?" he asked. "By the way, good to see you, Kate," he added politely.

She laughed and gave him a big hug. "Good to see you too, James."

"Where's Richard?" James asked.

Kate gave him a wistful smile. "Richard moved on a long time ago. Isabella was waiting. I'll catch up with him there, but I know he's fine."

"It's strange, isn't it?" Juliet asked. "So many of us ended up with someone we liked a lot but didn't love."

"Yeah, and poor Hurley got stuck with Ben," James commented, putting his arm around Juliet's shoulders. "So what were you two giggling about at my expense?"

"Well, I knew you'd been with Claire," Juliet began, "but I'd wondered if maybe you and Kate had rekindled the flames once you were back home." James and Kate both took an involuntary step apart.

But before either of them could deny it, Juliet finished her story. "Then I decided it didn't matter when Kate hugged me and said she was so glad I was back. She said you'd been no fun at all ever since I left."

"I'll agree with that," Claire added as she stepped into the conversation. "No fun at all."

"No fun? Seriously?" he couldn't help but ask. He thought he'd been happy.

Then he looked back at Juliet and realized, no, he hadn't been happy. He'd been content and productive. He'd been comfortable and responsible. But he hadn't been happy.

"I love you dearly, Jim," Claire sighed, "but you belong right here," and she pushed him so that he stood right next to Juliet.

Juliet put her arms around his neck and smiled. "I'll take him."

"Excuse me, you guys," Kate interjected. "But Jack just came in and he still looks a little mystified."

"He always was slow on the uptake," Juliet commented and the two women laughed. James watched from his spot beside Juliet as Kate pulled Jack into the room.

Several of the folks he'd already greeted walked forward to embrace Jack and welcome him.

James hung back for a while, his hand resting at the small of Juliet's back. He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing Jack. After all, the man had been Juliet's husband here for the past several years. They'd had a kid together.

"It's not fair," James commented at last with a sigh. "He got to marry you and have a baby with you. That was supposed to be me."

"I feel the same way, mate," Charlie's voice came from behind him. He turned to see Charlie staring across the room wistfully at Claire, who had stepped up to Jack to show him the baby. "You got all those years with Claire that I missed."

"I was just trying to take care of her for you," James explained with a shake of his head. "She never quit missing you. She kept your ring. I buried her with it."

Juliet's hand went around his waist as she said, "I'm glad you and Claire had each other. I'm glad you found a way to be happy. But now it's time for something new. Okay, guys?" she encouraged and kissed James on the cheek.

He nodded. Time to move on, he said to himself. Time to let bygones be bygones. He crossed the room and stepped up to Jack with a genuine smile.

"Good to see you, Jack," he said and gave the man a hug. "Thanks for taking care of Juliet for me."

"Is she here?" Jack asked a little anxiously.

"Yeah, she's here," James replied, glancing across the room to see that Juliet had pulled out her phone.

"And she's okay? She's okay with all this? It makes sense to her? Because it still doesn't make good sense to me," Jack tried to smile but James could still see the shock in his eyes.

"Jack, you need to just relax. Take a look around you. We're all here. We're all alive and well. There's Boone and Shannon and Sayid. Look, Sun and Jin are right over there. We all made it, Jack. We all made it here okay," James assured him. "Be glad. Be glad it's time for something new."

Jack's eyes met his and James saw some of the fear slip out of them as something that looked a little like relief took its place. Jack nodded and went off to greet more of their party.

"That was good, James," John Locke commented from behind him.

James turned to face him, memories of another man wearing that body surging to the forefront of his mind. Then John smiled at him. That other guy's smile had never looked like that. But John Locke had still been a colossal pain in the ass the entire time he knew him.

"Thanks," James replied, shaking his outstretched hand. "And who's this lovely lady?" James gave the redhead at John's side a big grin. She wasn't unaffected by it.

"Helen," she said, putting out her hand with a wide smile of her own.

He took her hand and gave it a light squeeze, calculated to deliver just the right message. When she smiled at him again and giggled a little, he let go of her fingers with a wink.

"What are you doing?" Juliet asked quietly as John led Helen away from him with a little frown.

"John Locke had that coming," he tried to explain, but she tucked his arm firmly in hers and led him far away to sit on the opposite side of the church.

"When we get there, you're going to have to behave you know. No more flirting with other women," she instructed.

"I'm still not exactly sure where 'there' is," he replied.

She frowned in thought. "It's the next thing, the new thing," she tried to explain. "I just got off the phone with Rachel. She said she's known for years. I don't know why she didn't leave already."

"I know. She wanted to wait until you were on your way too," James answered. "She's going to meet us?"

"She said she'll be along later," Juliet sighed. "It's been so good to be home with her. It was almost worth being married to Jack just to be back with her."

He put his arm around her as they sat side by side and waited. "I'm just glad to have you back with me," he whispered in her ear. "Even when you have no idea about something, you manage to sound like you do. It makes me feel better." Then he gave her ear a little nibble, something for her to think about.

It was Juliet's turn to giggle at that. But just then, a tall silver-haired man wearing a black suit and a pair of white tennis shoes entered the room, gave Jack a solemn nod and walked to the back of the church to the huge double doors.

The man opened them and the room was flooded with light. His hand gripping Juliet's tightly, James turned to look. He could see shapes in the brilliance but he couldn't make out what they were. Everyone stood and began to walk slowly down the aisle toward the glowing event ahead of them, but James held back a little.

At the front of the line, Rose and Bernard paused momentarily at the entrance, then gave them all a huge grin before launching themselves through the doorway into the great beyond. Emboldened, one by one the others went through until only Jack and Kate remained behind with them.

The silver-haired man spoke softly to Jack, then hugged him and passed over the threshold. James watched as Jack took Kate's hand and nodded. The two of them vanished.

"Now us," Juliet whispered. "It's okay. I've got you."

Suddenly he was afraid. He could feel the power coming through that door, a flood of love and forgiveness and peace rolling over him.

"I'm not sure I can," he replied. "I did a lot of awful things. I am a thief and a liar and a murderer. I know that. How can I go in there?"

She pulled him a little closer and held her hand into the warm light. It curled around and over her fingers like a living thing. "Feel this," she instructed gently. "Touch it. Know what it is."

He tentatively reached out and could feel only acceptance, a promise that all things had become new. A second chance.

"That's grace," she whispered. "It's for you. It's for both of us. Trust it."

Grace.

He took a deep breath and with Juliet at his side walked through.

THE END

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE: _**

_Well, that's it. I'm done! To all of you who've been reading for the past year, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. If you haven't popped over a review yet to let me know you've been along for the ride, please do. We don't make any money writing fanfiction - at least not as of this writing - so your review is the only reward I will ever get for doing this. _

_If you're reading this and it's been years since it was posted, let me especially thank you for finding it! It meant a great deal to me to write it and I hope you'll let me know you're still reading. Trust me, I am still checking my fanfiction emails. I have fics that are over five years old right now that it thrills my soul to hear that somebody's read them. So please review!_

_Thanks again for your support and encouragement._

_Oh and yeah, please do check out my non-fanfiction works as both YA/Fantasy author Arley Cole (_**The Blacksmith's Daughter**_) and romance author Leigh Daley (_**Storm Duty**_ and the upcoming _**Lifebound**_). I'd love to make writing books my full time job. A few sales will just help me along the way! _


End file.
